


And Comes the Cyclone

by Ambazaar



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fast Cars, Girls with Guns, Gorgeous Guys, Mild Language, Sexual Content, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambazaar/pseuds/Ambazaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte has long been separated from her sister, Natasha. A tragic error caused their indifferences toward each other, and though Charlotte has learned to forgive her sister, Natasha wasn't always one to accept forgiveness. Neither is Charlotte's next biggest concern: the God of Mischief himself. But it is by Loki's doing the two sisters are able to reunite, though on what kind of terms? Was forgiving Natasha a mistake? Will this Demi-god's ways manipulate Charlotte into getting back at her sister for the crime she never paid for?</p><p>STORY COVER - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/367254544595413512/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"I will prove myself worthy. I must show no weakness. This...thing you call love, it is a distraction, a weakness beyond all others, and I for one I will NOT fall victim."_

 

~~~~~~~~~

Through the cover of darkness, it was all clear. The dark green shades of a spinning vortex consumed the whole of the world. Blasts of lighting, shards of glass that had come with it through the heavens. Deep black clouds covered the sky, and nothing could be seen at all at first glance. The brush moved swiftly, adding the outlines of the vortex, the shades of the darkness, and the object that had been consumed inside. She remembered it all: the damage it had made once it finally made its way to the pavement of the crossroads, the explosions of the light posts-sparks flying every which way, and then the sudden departure, leaving almost no evidence of it ever being there…Almost no evidence.

Charlotte stepped back from her masterpiece, wiping the sweat from her brow. In her right hand, she held a plate of distorted colors of mostly black and green and gray. There were other colors, many others, blending almost perfectly together on the paper. The image was dark, almost scary, but it was pronounced by how she felt. Years later, Charlotte remembered the event as if it had happened hours ago and still it cast a dark shadow of fear into her heart. 

The things that had happened in those few hours were still shocking. She had called her best friend Meagan almost immediately when she arrived home. At this point in time, Charlotte would take anyone's advice. Meagan lived in the next city over, maybe four hours away. Charlotte would have a lot of time to think about - or paint more or less – what she had seen.

When the twister had come, smashing down on her small truck, she thought surely this was the end, but somehow she had survived. It surrounded her entire truck, the twirling debris crashing violently through her wind shield. With her foot still on the peddle, Charlotte drove clear off the rode into a short, yellow pole, and then, just like that, the cyclone suddenly vanished back up into the clouds. For the most part, the truck was still drivable, though the sudden halt left Charlotte with a bruise on her brow when her head clashed into the steering wheel. She sat there completely frozen for almost half an hour, processing the event that just abruptly happened. When she finally shook herself back into reality, she got out of the truck. The sky returned to its normal gloominess, but nothing remained of the storm. 

_Charlotte stood there for a long time, and then suddenly jumped. "Uuuuuhh...pff." groaned a figure far to the left of the truck. She turned and saw him, lying hopelessly in the middle of the street where the twister had left a deep crest in the pavement. She was too busy looking up at the sky; she hadn’t noticed him until now. The man, dressed in dark, but badly scorched clothes, struggled to turn off of his stomach. Charlotte eagerly made her way to him, stopping just a few feet from the edge of the crest. She stared in wonder, but was too scared to move closer. She saw his arms wobble violently as he fought to sit himself up, but then he collapsed again._

_Charlotte ran to her truck, seeking her cell phone. She ripped open her purse, but it was not there. She searched the truck, even the areas around, but her cell phone was gone. How could she call for help? There were no hospitals in this small town, and she could not drive alone to the next city over. It was too dangerous. Charlotte was left with a single option. She grunted and kicked the dirt, then turned back to the unconscious man, walking to him slowly. She stepped into the crest, sneaking around to his side, and knelt by his shoulder. The clothes he wore were definitely strange, and burned. His black hair fell over his head completely, so she moved some strands to see his face. His eyes were closed, covered in dirt. His lips were cracked, coated in dry blood, and mixed with saliva and dirt._

_Charlotte gently cupped his shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Sir? Can you hear me?” The stranger did not reply. He was completely still. Charlotte moved closer to him. She grabbed his shoulder, and, lifting him off his face, guided him to lie on his back. She caught him quick enough to prevent him from rolling over too hard, letting him rest his head on her knee. She sighed, wishing it would just be over, but, whoever this guy was, she knew he needed help. The man winced, and his eyes fluttered, but they did not completely open. “Come on, let’s get you some help.” She got him to sit up, but was without help, and she fought desperately to get him on his feet._

Charlotte's thoughts were interrupted at the sound of hard knocking on her front door. “Char, open up. It’s Meagan.” She knocked harder each second the door was not opened. Charlotte set her painting tools down, ran to the door, and unlocked it, and Meagan, her tall and blonde best friend, bolted inside. 

“Where is he? I want to see him!” she demanded. She looked over Charlotte's painted clothes. “You're painting at a time like this? Come on, Char. Let me see him!” Meagan bounced impatiently like an over excited child. Charlotte shook her head, worried her friend would do something stupid.

“Meg, just calm down, alright?” 

Too late. Meagan’s eyes swam through the darkness of the house until her eyes fixed upon the sleeping figure on Charlotte’s couch. “Oh my gosh, is that him?” Meagan pointed to the man sleeping soundlessly in her friend’s living room. A fire had been made to heat the room. 

Meagan skipped to the silent figure as quietly as her heels would allow her and Charlotte eagerly followed. Charlotte had done what she could about his face; his cuts were clean, and a wet cloth lay on his forehead. His hair was still a disaster, but not at all damaged. Meagan had that sly smile on her face, the one Charlotte was always afraid of. “Aw, Char…can we keep him?”

“This isn’t funny Meagan, this guy needs help!”

“Oh, Char, he seems fine to me. He looks wonderful.” She giggled like a teenage girl and added, “But if you want to make sure, I could give him CPR.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. She took her friends arm and led her out of the room to where her painting stood by the window. “This is what I saw. This thing came out of nowhere, and when it suddenly disappeared…he was there.” Meagan looked over the painting in wonder. It did look a bit scary.

Charlotte began to tell Meagan what had happened. She told her about the tornado, the damage it had done to her truck, and about driving this stranger back to her apartment, how he kept mumbling in his sleep; something about Asgard. At the mention of it, something inside Meagan suddenly woke and her eyes grew wide. She opened her mouth to speak, then suddenly closed it, glancing again over at the man on her friend's couch. Charlotte stared her, both confused and intrigued at Meagan's sudden interest in the word. “He mentioned Asgard?” Meagan finally mumbled. She seemed withdrawn to Charlotte, far off in her own thoughts. What was Asgard?

“Yeah. What, you’ve heard of it?”

Meagan was astounded. She smacked Charlotte hard on the shoulder, looking as if she had been hurt. “Charlotte! I’ve only been telling you about it for years. Do you never listen to anything I say?” 

“What? Not your bedtime stories.” Yes, Charlotte did remember some of what Meagan use to share with her during their childhood. Meagan’s father was a historian and for most of his life he studied many different legends and traveled the world in search of answers to the many mysteries he dedicated his life to solving. He would often return with stories that he told Meagan while she grew up, but there was never a legend her father was more fascinated with than the legends of the Asgardian gods. “They’re not bedtime stories, Charlotte, you know that.” Meagan sighed and sat on the stool near Charlotte’s painting. “Daddy told me about Asgard all the time, and I believed every word he said. I still do. Maybe your stranger knows more about Asgard. He could be a researcher, just like my father.”

“A researcher that falls from the sky almost completely unharmed?” Charlotte pointed out. There was no way. “There’s something else, Meg. Have you seen what he was wearing?” she added after a moment of thought. Meagan shook her head and got up to investigate. When she uncovered him and saw his strange uniform, her past suggestion was completely forgotten. “Seems a bit strange doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think a researcher would dress like this.” Meagan felt slight chills collapsing and running through her body at the mere thought of this man coming from outside this Earth. “It looks like a uniform. Almost…”

“War-like.” Charlotte concluded. Both girls exchanged concerned looks, wondering what such a discovery could do for the two of them. “Do you really think this guy can be from that Asgard place?” Meagan shrugged her shoulders.

“Everything makes sense. I mean, him falling from the sky and all. I’ve believed in the tales so long…I don’t know, Char.” She stared down at the man resting on the couch, wishing and wondering.

Charlotte looked back at her painting. She tried to process all that had happened within the last four hours. How was all of this possible? What should she do next? Whatever conclusion she came up with suddenly sounded ridiculous a moment later. She began to feel a little worried. “I suddenly feel like we are part of an under cover FBI genre movie.” Meagan laughed, bringing back the excitement she had felt earlier. “Which brings me to thinking, if he doesn’t wake up and enters some kind of coma, should we take him to the hospital?”

“Well, of course. Alien or not, we can’t let him die.” Charlotte nodded in agreement. “But then again, what if he does wake up and he doesn’t seem happy at all?” Meagan mentioned. Charlotte hadn’t thought of that either. Everything they were discussing was all to thrilling to piece together at the same time.

“We’ll take this a step at a time. We wait for him to wake up, and then we can start getting some answers. Then we go on from there. After that, he won’t be our problem.”

~~

The girls talked about this well into the night. It was a little past two when Meagan called it in and went upstairs to sleep in Charlotte’s room. Charlotte said she would stay up in case anything happened. When Meagan was gone, the house became strangely silent. The tick tock of the old clock hanging above the fireplace was all that could be heard. Charlotte watched the hands tick around the clock's face, sitting in the center of the carpet between the fireplace and the unconscious man. 

Around three, the fire started to die down. Charlotte fetched wood from the cellar a floor below her apartment and fed it to the fire. It sizzled and screeched, then lulled back to a soothing crackling sound. The warmth felt good on her cold skin. It was always cold, because she couldn’t afford the heat bill. Sadly, the fireplace didn’t heat the entire apartment.

It wasn’t until a quarter past four when Charlotte finally drifted off to sleep, but even then she was woken abruptly by the sound of rustling sheets. She sat up from the floor in front of the fireplace and turned back to the couch where the stranger lay, only he was gone. Charlotte rose quickly onto her feet. She went into the kitchen to look for him, but he was not there. He was in neither the bathroom nor the bedroom. Charlotte felt a little distress. She returned to the fireplace, pouting inside like a child who had lost their toy.

A deep voice from behind made Charlotte jump, “Which realm is this?” Charlotte spun around with such fright she nearly cried out. The stranger stood still, blending perfectly into the shadows of the room; it took a moment for Charlotte to find him. 

“Uh,” she mumbled. “Realm?”

“You seem human.” he informed her. “So it must be Earth.”

It amazed Charlotte how he knew the planet, seeing how she had concluded on the thought of him being an alien. She nodded, almost too eagerly. She walked a little toward him, but the stranger recoiled, moving to an opposite part of the room. He moved gracefully, even in the state he was in. He seemed very inhuman to Charlotte.

“Are you…an alien? From outer space?” she asked, twinning her fingers together nervously. She prayed Meagan would stay asleep for this. She didn’t want her to scare him away. The stranger did not reply to her question. Instead he walked around the house as if he were looking for something. Charlotte sighed. “Are you an alien,” she asked again, adding, “from Asgard?”

At the name of his home, his former home, he turned, and looked at her strangely. “Asgard?” he repeated. “How is it you know the name of that realm?” he asked. 

Charlotte shrugged. “You mentioned it...while you slept.” She told him, and quickly she added, “What is your name?”

The stranger glanced at Charlotte's hands, and noticed the way she fiddled with her fingers. It amused him and for a moment he played with the idea of messing with her, but the thought instantly past. “I am Loki, son of-” he said, but he stopped before finishing, turning away from her again. The room was silent for a long while. Charlotte took advantage of the stillness and moved a little closer. “I have no father.” Loki continued. “I have no brother. I have been betrayed by all who know me, and now I have come into this realm, this Earth, to seek my vengeance.” he explained.

Charlotte stood still, staring at him strangely. She felt sad at his poor tale, but did not well acknowledge it. She didn't know anything about this guy, but she suddenly became very interested in him. “If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Loki...what exactly are you?” she asked. “Are you…human?”

This stranger turned to her. He felt a little confused. “What am I?” he repeated. “I am Loki. I am a god, once a prince of Asgard, but no longer.”

“Loki...” Charlotte mumbled to herself. And then, everything clicked. She remembered the name from the stories Meagan had told her years ago. "Loki, the God of Mischief." Charlotte said quietly, mainly to herself. So Meagan had been telling the truth, she realized, or her father had. She wondered on in her thoughts, leaning against the back of the couch. What was happening? Charlotte felt a sudden ache in her skull and she raised a hand to her forehead to ease the pain. This was too much.

“God of Mischief.” Loki smiled, approving the title. “I am surprised humans have any knowledge.”

Charlotte, focusing her attention back on her situation, was hurt at his insult and stared back at him with annoyed eyes. “But, Loki is a myth. A legend. He's just a kids' books character. I don’t know who you are, but I’m sure you’re no god of mischief.” she told him, laughing a little, but it was a nervous laugh. “I'd rather prefer you to be an alien.” she added, turning to return to the kitchen; her heart was racing and she needed something to drink.

The supposed Loki lost his smile, and just as Charlotte walked through the archway to the kitchen, he suddenly appeared in front of her. Charlotte was too overwhelmed for words. Her heart was racing faster than it had been before. “You call me a liar?” Loki scowled, filling Charlotte with fear. Chills ran up and down her spine at the sound of his voice. “Who are you to say such things to me?” Loki continued.

Charlotte, relaxing herself for a chance to be sarcastic, offered him her hand with a mocking smile. “Charlotte.” she introduced herself. Loki's angry expression grew darker, and he aggressively shoved her hand aside. “You humans, your race is so clueless. I've observed you. You are a weak species. No leader, and no purpose. You think you are clever, but you know nothing!”

Charlotte flinched at the insults he threw at her. “Excuse me?” she declared angrily, stepping closer to him. “Oh I see, Mr. Know-it-all. Well, you know what? At least I'm not dumb enough to try and play tag with a tornado. Oh, and FYI: I saved you life!”

Loki paused. He stood straight and still, staring at her in silence for a long time. His gaze was cold. Charlotte’s angry expression turned numb. She took a step back, a few steps back. She suddenly wished Meagan _was_ awake. “Tell me,” he said, slightly smiling, “how can one save the life of an immortal, human?” Loki asked, looking at her as insignificant. He raised his head proudly over hers, stepping nearer to her. “You think you can save a life? Are you even capable of such things?” Charlotte’s skin went cold; the fire was growing dim, and then went out all together. The room lost its light and all that was left to see was a dark figure towering over her. Charlotte backed all the way into the wall, which seemed to freeze her skin as she touched it and Loki still drew nearer to her until she could feel his aura of cold surrounding her. The room was as silent as a grave, she couldn’t even hear as he leaned close to her. She felt his breath on her face. “You’re afraid.” he whispered. Charlotte shivered. “You cannot help but be afraid.” he continued. “Throughout your entire, pathetic, human life, you will always be afraid.”

Charlotte let out a yelp as Loki’s dark figure covered her completely in shadow. She crouched to the floor, holding her arms over her head, panting in fear. Seconds later, the light returned. Loki was gone.

Sounds of footsteps rushed down the stairs to where Charlotte crouched. Meagan took her friends arms and helped her to her feet. Charlotte fought with her. “Char, it’s alright. It’s, Meg. What happened, where’s the Asgardian?” Charlotte calmed down and looked around the room. After a moment, Meagan’s words sunk in.

Charlotte sighed, shaking her head. “Gone.”


	2. The Vow

Counting the many things Charlotte thought she would never do in her life, traveling to Germany would be one of the top numbers on her list. When she opened that invitation to take part in the Great Arts ball at Stuttgart Museum of Fine Arts, Charlotte couldn’t believe her eyes. This has to be some kind of junk mail, she thought to herself as she read over the invitation for what seemed like the tenth time. This couldn’t be happening…or could it? Everything on the small, purple piece of paper seemed to be legit, but Charlotte just couldn’t believe it. Something had to be wrong. As soon as she regained awareness of the things around her and set the card down on her dining table, she called Meagan. Not too long after, Meagan showed up at her front door.

“What do you mean it was you?” Charlotte asked a few moments after Meagan’s arrival; the two girls sat in front of the empty fireplace, each with a cup of hot tea in their hands. Meagan smiled wide, a conspicuous look of pride in her face. 

She took her time in replying, to further the suspense. Finally, she sighed and began explaining. “You remember when my father dragged me along to one of his business parties in Germany last year?” she asked. Charlotte nodded. Of course she wouldn’t forget. She had been very jealous of her best friend. "Well it turns out the president of that party was Dr. Heinrich Shafer. He’s supposed to be some big shot scientist, but he’s also an arts dealer. He sponsors the Stuttgart Art Museum with his research, and every year they host a ball. I saw a notice somewhere on the Internet and thought I’d check it out for you. I was bored and had a lot of time on my hands…so I emailed Dr. Shafer for invitations.” Meagan explained. “I knew you were upset at me last year because you couldn’t come. I told him we are both artists and would love to attend.”

“Are you serious?” Charlotte cried out, jumping off the sofa in glee. Her heart was throbbing with excitement. Any past thoughts she had about the Asgardian or how depressed she had felt were suddenly gone. 

Meagan’s smile could hardly match her best friend’s. “Alright, just sit for a moment. I’m not done!”

“There’s more?”

“Well, they were more than glad to get us invitations, but they did have a sort of request.” Meagan said this with a hint of guilt in her voice. Charlotte depicted it right away, she knew Meagan more than she cared to like. “I sent them your painting.” She added after a moment in silence. Charlotte’s smile instantly faded. The look on her face was too bland for Meagan to read, she didn’t know if what she had said was a good thing or if it was upsetting. Charlotte was always hard to read in her eyes.

Charlotte took a deep breath. “You sent them my painting?” a wave of embarrassment came over her suddenly. “What painting,” she asked in a panic. If it had been the one of the twister, the one she called God of Mischief (for obvious reasons), she would kill Meagan. Not only was that painting the only copy she had done (she usually did one or two copies of each of her paintings incase of losing them), but it was also not her best; it was very bland for her talents, at least she knew it would be to anyone else’s eye. To her relief, Meagan shook her head.

“I sent the painting you did of the Asgardian,” she said with a bit of a bounce in her voice. 

Charlotte froze. The words her friend had spoken seemed unreal to her. She turned slowly, her face without expression. “You did…what?” her voice was hardly hearable. Meagan stared back at her friend, realizing what she had done was the wrong idea. 

“I found a painting you did of the Asgardian we met. I thought it was amazing, so I sent it to the museum.”

“What? Meagan!”

“Well, they obviously liked it because it got us invites to the ball.”

“Meagan, I can’t believe you went through my things and then sent my painting half way across the world without asking me. What were you thinking?”

“Well, I was thinking after you get out of work tomorrow, I can take you to Baselley’s so we can get dresses, and then there’s this really cute miscellaneous shop down the road that we can look for accessories at, oh, and maybe after the flight-” 

“Meagan!” Charlotte’s head was boiling. Everything said after Meagan’s confession of sending her newest artwork to Stuttgart had escaped Charlotte and she held firmly onto the anger inside her. “I can’t believe you! First you went through my workshop when you know I hate that, and then you stole my painting and sent it off to some guy in Germany? Who knows if I’ll ever get it back?”

“Char, calm down. I new if I asked you, you’d say no.”

“You’re damned right I would say no, so why would you go and do that?”

“Will you just calm down for five minutes and let me explain? Please!” Meagan pleaded with a raised voice. Despite her many protests yet to come, Charlotte held in the steam rolling off her bones and sunk into the cushions of her couch, refusing to look her friend in the eye. “Ever sense the incident with…you know,” Meagan began. Charlotte’s mind simmered at the thought of Loki, the supposed Asgardian prince who she had ‘saved’ months ago. Chills crawled through her body when her mind brought back the sound of his voice to her ears, the way he seemed so cold, like his whole body was made of ice. Meagan’s voice brought her out of her realm of thought. “You just seem closed off all the time. You don’t ever leave the house, and you sleep with the lights on now. I just thought this would make you happy and it would give you a chance to get out there again.” 

Charlotte knew Meagan meant no harm and that she was just looking out for her, as she always did. She had been a lot more unsociable after that night, but the thought of going all the way to Germany to fetch her painting back seemed overwhelming, suddenly. Plus, the thought of flying over the ocean did not thrill her in the least. Then again, the idea of going to a ball in an art museum sounded like fun. Maybe doing something radical like going over seas would bring Charlotte back to reality. Looking Meagan in the eye again, Charlotte sighed. She knew she would come to regret her decision in some horrid way. “When is the flight?”

~~

“Meagan, I can’t wear that.” Charlotte stared at the dress before her uncertain about its modesty. This wasn’t a masquerade ball, so she didn’t have to go all out on her outfit, whereas Meagan had handed her several dresses that she knew would surely make her stand out in a large crowd, however, that was not Charlotte’s intention. Meagan looked over the dress she held tired of the constant rejection she had received so far.  
“Come on, what’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s too…flashy.” Charlotte judged the dress with furrowed brows. There was no doubt, the gown was beautiful, but she felt she couldn’t wear it without disgracing the dress, plus it was another one of those look-at-me types of gowns.

It was a strapless dress. The cloth underneath was a smooth, pale tan fabric dropping all the way to the floor. Covering the dress from the top were hundreds of thin shiny, gold strands which curved over each other at the breast line and spread out more the closer they got to the bottom. It was tight at the waist, but after the hips the fabric loosened, and it flowed as Meagan swayed it in front of Charlotte.

After a moment of looking it over, Charlotte grabbed the hanger and rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll only try it on, but that’s it.” Meagan clapped her hands in excitement as her friend searched out a dressing room. Charlotte had little difficulty trying on the dress. It fit almost perfectly and it felt wonderfully comfortable. When she looked at herself in the mirror, her soul gasped. The gown was very beautiful, even on her. Images of herself dancing at the ball in the dress flashed through her mind. She loved the way it looked with her red hair and pale skin and the gold color brought out the amber in her eyes.

“Let me see, Char.” Meagan called from the other side of the door. Hesitantly, Charlotte opened the door. She was suddenly bombarded with ‘Oooo’s’ and ‘Ahhh’s’ as she stepped out of the dressing room and recoiled back when she realized the entire store had stopped to see her in the dress. There were a lot of good comments mumbled throughout the crowd, but Charlotte fled back behind the door in embarrassment.

“Meagan, I hate you,” she yelled. She could hear her friend laughing at her.

“Charlotte you look amazing. I don’t know about you, but I think that is the one. Let me get it for you, please!”

Charlotte stared at herself again in the mirror, feeling the fabric of the dress. She did like it very much. It just felt right. Changing back into her other clothes, she agreed this was the dress she would wear to the ball.

After purchasing the dress, Charlotte returned home to pack for the trip. Their flight would leave in a few hours and Charlotte had only a few minutes to get her things together. 

Charlotte had never left Arizona before. She had grown up and lived in a small town all her life, so she did not know what to expect when the two would arrive in Germany. Part of her still couldn’t believe she had agreed to go halfway across the world just for her painting. Another part of her tugged on a certain hope that maybe if she went to a big city like Stuttgart, then she would possibly reunite with her long, lost sister. 

It had been years sense the two had last seem each other, and over very bad terms. In fact, Charlotte hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but for palpable reasons. Glancing around her darkened room, Charlotte looked back to the incident that had broken the two sisters apart, though it was a painful one. She remembered the snow, which was something no one would expect in the Arizona heat. Charlotte had been waiting by her bedroom window, staring out into the night for any sign of headlights through the peculiar blizzard. She waited for hours and hours, until her body could no longer take the agony of waiting. She turned to leave the darkness of her room. There in the doorway was Natalia.

 

_For a long while, nothing was said between them. Charlotte could hardly see the expression on her sister’s face or the condition she was in due to the lack of light in the room, but something in their silence told Charlotte something was horribly wrong. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Her worst thoughts arose and the longer her sister remained silent, the more she thought them to be true. Finally, through a thick breath of air, Charlotte asked, “You found him?” More silence. Despite the order she had been given to never show overwhelming emotion while on the job, Natalia could not help but shed a tear as sadness took over her._

_With a shivering sigh, Natalia quietly breathed out the reply, “Yes.”_

_Charlotte let out a silent weep at her sister’s answer. It was over, and there was nothing she could do now, but the realization that Samuel was indeed dead brought more pain into Charlotte’s soul than she could bear. She knew why it had to be done, but her heart still denied any truth Natalia had spoken. She fell slowly to her knees, weeping uncontrollably. As for Natalia, she knew that what she had done was an obvious mistake, but she could not bring herself to tell her sister this. Not now. Charlotte would find out in a letter left by Natalia the day following._

 

Wiping a slight tear from her cheek, Charlotte rose from her bed to pack the rest of her things. It would be good to see Natalia again, despite the differences between them in the past. It was Natalia who had taught her to not dwell on the mistakes of the past. Though it was a hard thing to do, Charlotte eventually forgave her sister and moved on, but she still had not heard from her in years. Expecting her to be in Germany that week was more than a ridiculous hope, but it was a hope she was willing to take.

When the bags were zipped and ready to go, the telephone rang as if on cure. Forgetting her memories for a little bit at least, Charlotte skipped merrily to the phone.

“Are you ready to get this show on the road, Sister?” Meagan sang on the other line. Charlotte smiled.

“Absolutely.”

~~

She felt ready, but there was nothing that would have prepared Charlotte for that night at the museum. Landing in Germany was an entire experience by itself. The ride in from the plane was a breathtaking event from start to finish, and though it was well into the night by the time the two of them were on their feet again, the atmosphere around them felt wonderful. To be in a different country, thousands of miles away from anything familiar felt as if they were on a completely different planet.

Eventually, the girls were able to relax in their hotel room, which was a two bedroom, one bathroom, and three main-room living space. There was a dinning room, a large kitchen, and a living room, complete with a 92-inch entertainment system, two thermal system sofas, and a cute antique coffee table set. Charlotte had never loved the fact that her best friend was practically rich until now. She had never even lived in a house this nice, save the one she did now. When she told this to Meagan, he friend laughed. Of course she had; the house Meagan lived in now was more like a mansion to Charlotte.

The first couple of days, Charlotte and Meagan spent roaming around the area. Meagan introduced her to a young man sitting behind a bar counter in one of the diners Charlotte guessed she had met the last time she was in Germany. The two were extra friendly to each other, and Charlotte could not help but laugh, even though half of their conversation was in German and she couldn’t understand a word they said. After that, there was more exploring to be done.

“You see that white building way on the other side of the block?” Meagan asked Charlotte when the two girls had walked onto a small bridge over the small lake just outside of the square. Charlotte squinted to see what building she talked about.

“The large one? Is that the museum?” Charlotte asked. “Can we go see it?”

“No, of course not. We need to save that for tomorrow night. I’m going to tell you though, it’s beautiful.” Meagan explained. Charlotte was a little disappointed, but the excitement rose within her at the thought of the following night. She couldn’t wait.

During the final day just before the ball, Charlotte could do nothing but wait for the night. Excitement was raging inside both of them, but more so in Charlotte. She had never been to a ball before, let alone one in Germany. As she thought about it, she was actually kind of nervous.

“What if I stand out horribly? What if the dress you bought me doesn’t fit in with the rest? Oh God. Meagan, I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb!” Meagan only laughed at her friend. She knew she was just overreacting, but Charlotte could hardly stand it.

“Charlotte, you need to relax.” Meagan told her as she handed her friend a glass of cold water. Charlotte gulped it down almost instantly. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. I can’t imagine what you would have been like if I hadn’t come along.”

“Oh, don’t even go there.” Charlotte chucked nervously. What would she have done? Probably go insane, she thought to herself. Once she was able to calm down, Meagan lured her into the bathroom so the two could get ready. 

By the time Charlotte had gotten into the shower and the hot water was running over her, she felt completely relaxed. The steaming liquid soothed the nervousness out of her body, like a spirit flowing in and out of her soul, filtering out whatever was unwanted. As she stood in the porcelain tub, she let her thoughts wander (it was a routine of hers to let the day’s events, or really any events of the time, run through her mind while she was in the shower). After everything: her fears of what might happen, the hope of seeing her sister, even thoughts of the Asgardian prince, was washed away, replaced again by pure excitement for the ball, Charlotte got out of the shower.

“Why don’t I put the gown on first? It would make more sense that way,” Charlotte had suggested when Meagan began doing her make-up for her. She stood completely still on the seat of the toilet, trying not to blink a single eyelash. Meagan was applying a dark, gold eye liquid to her eyelids as carefully as she could manage.

“Don’t question – my genius, Charlotte,” she said with a smile, concentrating on getting Charlotte’s make-up perfect. “Why do you not trust me, I’ve only been doing this for years.” Charlotte laughed at her friend’s accent. Though Meagan was raised in America, because both of her parents were English she sometimes talked like them, but only when she was completely relaxed, or when she wanted to show off.

“I never said I didn’t trust you. If that was the case, you wouldn’t be doing this, would you?” Charlotte laughed. Meagan had half a mind to rub the eye make on her face, but didn’t; it was too expensive to waist. When she was done with that, she pulled out more make-up containers, all filled with different varieties of beautiful colors. “What’s that for?” Charlotte asked. Meagan gave Charlotte an annoyed look, and Charlotte turned her head back into the position it was before and motioned zipping her own lip, giggling slightly in the process. Meagan laughed and grabbed a tiny bottle from her purse. 

“Now you don’t need much of this, because your complexion is like, perfect, but I’m going to use just a pinch on your nose to cover up those pores.” Meagan explained and applied a pale, skin-colored cream to Charlotte’s face. Charlotte was slightly frightened by it, but she stood still. She would never understand the roles of certain cosmetics, because she hardly ever wore make-up at all. The one thing she did use was eyeliner, but it was a color of liner nearly identical to her complexion. “That’s no fun at all,” Meagan had told her, but she simply ignored her. Having Meagan do her make-up now was somewhat fun, to a certain extent. 

After her make-up, Meagan also offered to do Charlotte’s hair. “Are you going to have enough time to do yourself?”

“Of course! I am the appearance wizard, am I not? Don’t worry, just plug in that straightener over there.” Without a word, Charlotte did as she was told while Meagan plucked several tall, cylinder-shaped cans from her purse. “I’m going to give you an option here. What would you prefer: extra curly, or straight?” Meagan asked, setting the bottles down on the bathroom sink.

Charlotte sat on a stool in front of the mirror, thoroughly looking over her reflection. “Wow, Meagan. What did you do to my face?” she exclaimed. Meagan laughed and took Charlotte’s hair out of the pony tail she put it in earlier. 

“I told you, I’m a genius. Now, answer my question.”

Charlotte thought about it for a while. Her hair was naturally wavy, but not as curly as her sister’s hair. She always envied Natalia for having the beautiful hair out of the two of them. But Charlotte had curled her hair many times in her attempts to look like her older sister, and never had she come out with the result that she wanted in the first place. “Let’s go with straight.” She said, feeling both excited and ambiguous at the same time. With the straightener in one hand and a brush in the other, Meagan went to work in the mess that was Charlotte’s hair.

It took a few hours; Charlotte was surprised at that, but not as surprised as she was with the end result. She never noticed her hair was actually long enough to cover her chest until it was completely straightened, but the red color and the natural shine it had was beautiful to look at; Charlotte was proud of her hair. It felt lighter than before, like Meagan had secretly cut off most of the flawless strands in secret, which Charlotte knew she would never do. Looking her reflection over in the mirror again, Charlotte smiled. “You are an appearance wizard, Meagan.”

“The appearance wizard, dear Charlotte. I am the one and only, now let’s put your dress on so I can get changed.”

“Or you could just wear that.” Charlotte joked.

Meagan looked down at her holey sweatpants and The White Stripes t-shirt with distaste. Looking up with a sarcastic smile, she led Charlotte into a clumsy waltz out of the room, singing a humorous tune of La la la. Both girls laughed hysterically, not believing how ridiculous they were. It is why they had remained best friend for so many years.

 

~~

Charlotte twirled her fingers nervously over each other as she sat in the back of the black limo. Meagan sat casually with a glass of champagne in her hand. She watched Charlotte over the edge of her glass while taking another sip. Her friend stared out the window, watching the people they past. She didn’t expect to be arriving to the ball in a limo. It made her worry that everyone would be watching her when she got out. She was an imposter. She didn’t even remember why she was going to this ball.

Meagan smiled and clasped her free hand over Charlotte’s. “Char, you’re going to be fine. I don’t know why you’re so nervous.”

“Maybe because people might expect some senator or something when we step out of the limo. I’m dressed in this absurd dress, wearing all this make-up. I don’t feel like myself.”

Meagan laughed. “Charlotte. You’re being ridiculous. You look amazing! I wouldn’t be surprised if you picked up some hot German boy from this.”

“Oh, don’t even.” Charlotte loathed the idea of some strange guy hitting on her, especially since she wouldn’t be able to understand him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Meagan said, giggling wildly. She sipped the rest of her champagne and straightened out her dress, which was a shorter, dark blue gown with small sparkle specks here and there, and with straps that wrapped around her neck in the back. It brought out the light blue in her eyes, and complemented her figure remarkably. She wore little make-up, but what she had brought out her face in a brilliant, beautiful way. She had slightly curled her hair, and pinned it up in some places to make it look shorter. To Charlotte, she almost looked like Cate Blanchett, which Meagan was proud of; they dearly loved their Australian actresses.

The vehicle came to a sudden stop, startling Charlotte. Meagan sat up in her seat, a wide smile plastered on her face. “Are you ready?”

Charlotte nervously shook her head. “No.” and then the driver opened their door and they both exited the limo.

The night air was chilly, but not too cold. As Charlotte stepped out of the limo, she admired the scenes around her. In front of them was the museum. It was a beautifully large building, with three, gorgeous, stained glass windows on either side of the front entrance, welcoming the sights outside within the ballroom. Lights flashed and circled around the ground where a large group of people stood, waiting to get inside. Meagan took Charlotte’s hand and led her in that direction. Two bright clocks hanging on both sides of the middle windows caught Charlotte’s eye. It was nearly 8 o’ clock. 

When they had gotten inside, the atmosphere suddenly changed. It was warmer, and more breathtaking. A symphony was being played; the sound was relaxing and lovely. Charlotte indulged herself in the architecture of the large ballroom. The ceiling seemed to be made out of marble, which stunned her a bit. She had seen marble floors, but never a ceiling, though it was high up from her view, she could tell. Another thing that caught her eye was the statue in the middle of the room. It was some sort of table, with two bulls acting as the tables’ heads at either end. Immediately after walking into the crowd of people, Charlotte went to the walls to look over hanging artwork. They were all beautiful, but then Charlotte suddenly realized why she had come. Where was her painting?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Meagan caught her by the arm. “Look, there is Dr. Heinrich right now. I’ll introduce you.”

“Meagan, you’ve only met the man once. How do you know he won’t recognize you?” Charlotte asked, but was ignored as Meagan pulled her through the crowd. She caught sight of an older man who hardly had any hair on his head, wearing a black tux and tie. He had a round face, but a friendly smile, which was pointed at Meagan when he caught sight of them. 

“Ah, Victor jüngste tochter,” the man said, though Charlotte couldn’t understand him. Mentioning Meagan’s father’s name, he must have recognized her. Meagan planted a kiss on the Doctor’s cheek, which he returned.

“Es ist schön, Sie wieder zu sehen, Doktor.”

“Ein Vergnügen.”

Meagan turned to Charlotte, who waited in the background of their reunion to be introduced. “Doctor, this is my close friend, Charlotte. She is the one who did the painting I sent you.” Charlotte shook the man’s hand with an uncertain smile. Heinrich smiled back, looking a bit surprised.

“Jou are the one who made dat glorious painting? I have to say, Miss Charlotte, I v’wass amazed.” The doctor said, kindly, a hand gesturing over his chest. Charlotte was flattered to here him speak greatly over her work, whether it had been stolen from her or not. She smiled and nodded. “Well, thank you, Doctor. I’m glad to hear you like it.”

“Tell me, v’wat vas you inspiration, to paint in the arts of mythology? As you can tell, the museum has its own great love for mythology. It v’was the legend of the Asgardian Prince, in vich you painted, v’was it not?”

Charlotte opened her mouth, but didn’t quite know how to answer the doctor’s question. Luckily she didn’t have to. A man came to Heinrich at that moment and slightly tapped on his shoulder, whispering something to him in German. The doctor seemed disappointed, but when the man disappeared, he turned back to Charlotte and smiled. “I am sorry, my dears, but I must go now. We vill talk about this more. Please, enjoy yourselves. Meagan, alv’ways a pleasure.” And then he dispersed. 

Charlotte, too felt a little disappointed. “There goes my only hope of finding my painting.” She mumbled. Meagan sighed, then looked around the room, but realized none of the paintings hanging around the ballroom were the one they were looking for. “Well maybe we can look around. It has to be here somewhere.”

Charlotte thought about that too, but she knew it wouldn’t be that easy to just go anywhere she wanted. There were men standing around the room, she noticed, just watching the others. They were most likely guards of some sort. “I bet most of the museum is off limits.”

“Well, how about I distract the curly haired guard over there, and you sneak past him.” Charlotte laughed. 

“I’m not sneaking anywhere.”

“Oh, come on, Charlotte. Have some fun for once in your life.”

“I have fun. I also obey rules, unlike someone I know.”

Meagan gave her friend a childish look, but the two laughed at one another. There was a tapping sound that echoed through the air at that moment, and the girls’ attention was drawn to the front of the room where Dr. Heinrich stood in front of a microphone. He spoke to the crown in German, but sense Meagan hardly showed interest, she knew it wasn’t anything she was really missing out on. As the rest of the crowd had their full attention on the Doctor, Charlotte’s eyes wandered. 

She looked over the winding stairs and wished to know what secrets were hidden up there. Her eyes followed the stone railing until they fell on the balcony above the ballroom. Though the large painting on the wall of that floor interested her a great deal, something else caught the better of her attention. There was a man standing alone, looking over the balcony railing down at the crowd, maybe even directly at Dr. Heinrich. She could not see his face, but noticed he carried something in his hand: a walking stick of some sort, with a bright, luminescent, blue orb at the top. As she stared at it, Charlotte suddenly felt a little diverted. She felt drawn to it, like a moth drawn to light. It was beautiful.

The man moved away from the balcony, as if he could detect Charlotte watching him. There was something strange about him, but she didn’t know what. Not completely knowing why and without a word to Meagan, Charlotte walked through the slightly spread out crowd to stand nearer to the stairs. “Charlotte, where are you going,” Meagan called after her, but Charlotte did not answer. She kept on toward where one of the guards was standing until the man she had seen was now at the top of the stairs just behind Dr. Heinrich. He paused for a moment, glancing at the crowd, and then made his way down. At this point, Charlotte could see his face, and she could not believe her eyes.

Meagan caught up with her friend and whispered fiercely in her ear, “What are you doing? I was only joking about the guards.”

Charlotte ignored her. Instead she stared at the man on the stairs. He was dressed in a black suit, with a green and white scarf hanging over the back of his neck. He held the cane in his hand, almost too firmly. What Charlotte recognized about him the most was his face. Those features had hardly left her mind for the past couple of months. His skin was pale, and his dark eyes seemed almost lifeless, yet he moved. The heart in Charlotte’s chest thumbed loudly within her. Nearly too quiet for Meagan to here, she whispered, “It’s him.”

Meagan’s gaze followed that of her friends, and her eyes also fell on the strange man. Almost immediately, she recognized him. Charlotte held her breath as he approached. She didn’t know why he was there, or what he was doing, but for some reason, she suddenly felt afraid.

One of the guards caught sight of the two girls and looked back to see what they were staring at, and as soon as he did, Loki appeared behind him, tossing his cane in the air and catching the end of it again, and suddenly swung it into the guard’s face, knocking him to the floor. Charlotte jolted backwards when this happened, as did the others that were near enough to see it happen. As they cried out, Dr. Heinrich turned as Loki grabbed him by the throat and dragged him to the table with the bulls, flipping him on top of it.

“Doctor!” Meagan cried, as many others did, but there was no helping him. The moment Loki brought out a strange devise and then plunged it into Heinrich’s face, all who had been in the ballroom hastily made their way for the exit, screaming in fear as they went. Charlotte was numb in watching this. She could hardly breathe, too terrified of this man before her to move. Meagan was yelling frantically for Charlotte while also crying for the Doctor as Loki mutilated his face, smiling at he did.

She ran back for Charlotte, but then suddenly noticed one of the guards had dropped his club. Without thinking, Meagan picked it from the ground, holding it firmly in her hands, and marched toward Loki. Charlotte’s fear arouse from her mouth in a scream. “Meagan, no!” But it was too late. As Loki was about to turn, Meagan swung the club in the same way he had done with his cane, and slammed it into the side of his head, prying him away from the dead Doctor. Loki cried out in mere surprise, but was unharmed. He turned to Meagan with hatred in his face, leaving fear to be the only expression on Meagan’s. She slowly stepped away from the Asgardian, but not before she witnessed the cane in Loki’s hand transform into a large, metal spear. Meagan’s heart raced with terror. She dropped the club, but could not turn to run in time before Loki lunged his scepter into her stomach. Charlotte screamed when she saw Meagan jolt back, gasping in pain. And then she fell to her knees, holding her stomach where Loki had stabbed her. Charlotte stared, horrified at her friend, and then looked to Loki who wore nothing but rage on his face. When she had fallen, he smiled. He had not stabbed her enough to kill her, he realized, so he raised his scepter again. Charlotte’s eyes grew wide, and she screamed to him by name.

A deadly silence followed her scream. Loki stopped, meeting Charlotte’s eyes in a wave of surprise. He lowered his scepter, slowly, and stood straight as he examined Charlotte’s appearance. She was shaking, and small tears fell from the corners of her eyes. Loki stood still, slightly smiling at her, but she did not know why. It kind of scared her to see him so pleased. “And our paths meet again, Charlotte,” he said simply, glancing down at Meagan briefly. “I suppose, you know this woman.”

Charlotte took a deep breath to calm her trembling body, glancing down at her friend. “What if I do?” she said, more boldly than she thought she could. Loki leaned back, turning again to a terrified Meagan, still holding her belly, blood now visible on her beautiful gown. Loki swiped his scepter under Meagan’s chin, causing her to weep in fear. “Please, Loki. Leave her, please.” Charlotte pleaded, taking a step toward the two of them. Loki glanced up at her while dragging the tip of his scepter through Meagan’s hair, tormenting her. “Please... ”

Finally, Loki took back his spear and turned completely to Charlotte. “You wish to see compassion?” he asked, smiling. He stepped toward her. Charlotte was too afraid to move back. Her body was trembling worse than before. She simply nodded. As if mocking her, Loki shrugged his shoulders. “Show me compassion.” He pointed the scepter in her direction. “Kneel to me,” he ordered. Charlotte stood still, stunned. Was he joking? Of course not, she realized. She glanced at Meagan, who was hardly awake now. She had tears in her eyes as she looked to the floor, slowly lowering to her knees. When she was situated on the floor, Loki’s smile grew. He walked to her, now completely ignoring the other girl. “That was not so bad.” He said, walking around her. Her eyes remained on the floor.

Charlotte’s skin felt cold as he stepped near her, and she completely tensed, holding her breath when she felt the chill of his fingers on her shoulder. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt him bend to her ear, his breath warm on the back of her neck. “I will spare your friend…Charlotte,” he whispered. She could feel his cold gaze staring at her while he spoke. “If you vow to me. Vow to obey, to do as I ask, to let me rule you, then I will spare her life.” He stood again and waited in the silence of the museum.

Charlotte sat there for what seemed like years, rotting in the cold silence that was Loki. She was scared, for both Meagan and herself. Tears ran down her face. What else could she do? She sighed out, and then held what remaining breath she had until she felt dizzy. She opened her eyes as blackness surrounded her sight, but only for a moment. The world seemed to spin around her, and it wouldn’t stop. What else could she do?

“I…vow,” Charlotte whispered, so silently, she could hardly hear herself.

Loki leaned in to her ear again. “You vow to what?” he said, knowing it would aggravate her. Charlotte took a deep breath.

“To obey. To be ruled…Loki.” She said, finally breathing all the way out.

At her words, Loki smiled. There was something about him that made Charlotte quiver. Just the sound of his breath sent chills through her body, and she couldn’t control it. Loki walked in front of her and offered her his hand. For a moment, she only stared at it, not sure what to do, like it was alien to her. Eventually, she raised her hand in the air and Loki grabbed it, pulling her to her feet, which frightened her a good deal. When she jerked back, Loki gripped her forearm and held her still, making it to where she had to stare into his eyes. She noticed he had somehow changed from his suit to the Asgardian attire she had first saw him in, minus the horned helmet. His smile was gone, but there was something in his eyes, like a sort of accomplishment. Was this his plan all along? He smirked slightly, loosening his grip on her arm. “Come, then,” he said, leading her to the exit. At this point, Charlotte had somehow forgotten about Meagan.

When the two were finally outside, Charlotte was surprised to see everyone who had been in the ball had not yet dispersed. Chaos filled the streets. As Loki stepped out of the museum, the police came driving down the street, only to be blasted away at the power of his scepter. The people were surrounded by holographic images of Loki. Whether they would be dangerous at all was unknown to the people of Stuttgart, so they dared not approach them. With Charlotte slowly trailing behind him, Loki made his way to the crowd. With his scepter raised, Loki demanded the people to kneel before him, as he had with Charlotte, but not a single one of the obeyed. “I said…” He slammed the scepter down on the ground, sending a wave of electricity to the other Loki’s in the crowd. “Kneel!” he screamed. In their fear, the people obeyed he wish and fell to their knees.

Loki smiled, pleased with himself. The people looked up to him out of fear, wondering what he was planning to do. Loki casually walked to the crowd, and some of the people parted a way for him as he walked past. “Is not this simpler?” he asked, gesturing his hands toward them. “Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity…that you crave subjugation.” Some of the people in the crowd bent their heads down in thought. Of course they did not agree with him. Charlotte even disagreed, but who were they to speak up? What would he do if they did? “The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power…for identity.” Loki went on. “You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

As Loki finished his short speech, Charlotte saw at the corner of her eye an elderly man stand in the crowd of kneeling people. Her eyes grew wide with worry. She glanced at Loki as the older man spoke. “Not to men like you,” he said, in a voice braver than anyone she had heard. Loki only laughed.

“There are no men like me,” he said. He said it only because he knew he was not entirely a man, but something more, at least in his eyes.

The old man meekly shook his head and said, “There are always men like you.”

Loki was not fazed by this speech. He took one step closer and pointed the scepter in his hand toward the one who spoke up to him. “Look to your elder, people.” Charlotte gasped, knowing what he would do. She took a step forward, but realized anything she did would be no good. And the vow… “Let him be an example.” 

The light left the scepter, blazing toward the old man, but before it could meet its target, another stood in its way. The electric ball bounced back straight at Loki, throwing him into the ground. Everyone around him was dazed. What had just happened? The crowd turned to the old man, but saw someone else standing there with him. All the stories Charlotte had ever heard when she was young, and did not believe, suddenly came back to her when she looked and saw Captain America standing in the middle of the crowd, his legendary shield at his side. Most around him could not believe it either, Charlotte knew by the way they looked at him. She smiled, feeling a sort of relief.

Loki scrambled to get back on his feet as the captain approached him. “You know, the last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing.”

“The soldier!” Loki observed, relaxing the rage inside him. He stood with the help of his scepter, laughing. “A man out of time.”

“I’m not the one who’s out of time.” The captain replied.

Charlotte and the others looked up in the sky as a jet approached the crowd. The relief on most of the people’s face could be seen from anywhere, but Charlotte knew Loki would not go down without a fight. The guns of the jet dropped, pointing at the Asgardian. A woman from within the jet spoke, “Loki, drop the weapon and stand down.”

Of course, he did not. Loki fired his scepter in the direction of the jet, which moved quick enough to avoid the blast. In the distraction, Captain America threw his shield at Loki and marched forward in an attempt to capture him. The people who had been held captive now scattered themselves to get away from the fight, all except Charlotte who went toward it. She did not know what she could do, but she felt if she ran away, than it would be the end of her. She pushed past the screaming crowd of panicked people as a sound of music took over the skies, like someone had turned on the fighting theme song. She realized then that is was Tony Stark as she saw him flying near them in his Ironman suit. Another smile lifted her face. Just before Charlotte reached the place where Loki stood, Tony discharged a ball of flame toward Loki, knocking him directly into Charlotte, who flew back into the hard concrete underneath him. Though he felt little pain, Charlotte rolled down the concrete steps unconscious.

When Tony landed, the captain met with him just before Loki changed uniforms in a form of surrender, holding his hands in the air. When he knew there would be no more fighting, Loki turned to the comatose Charlotte and, glancing at either men near him, slowly made his way to her, calling her by name. She didn’t answer. This confused Tony and Cap. Who was this girl, and how did Loki know her? Loki took one of the girl’s shoulders and shook her slightly before Tony grabbed him, raising him to his feet.

In the back, the jet landed and a woman with short red hair came running out. When she saw the scene, she ordered Tony to take Loki to the jet. Loki held back, staring anxiously at Charlotte. When he was finally away, Natasha, the red headed woman, looked down at the unconscious girl. “Who’s this?” she said, crouching down beside her.

“Don’t know, but that Loki…called her Charlotte.” Captain informed her. Natasha paused and fiercely turned to the unconscious girl. She bent down at her side and flipped her over to see her face. Of course, she would recognize that face anywhere.

Tony exchanged glances with Captain. “You know this girl?”

Natasha did not reply right away. She stared down at Charlotte and took a moment to feel a pulse to see if she was still alive. To her relief, she was. “We need to get her help. Get her in the jet, she goes with us.”

“Hold on a minute, ma’am. We can’t take a civilian with us. She needs a hospital.”

“No!” Natasha yelled back, startling both men. They were confused at this. Though Natasha held firmly onto one of her blank expressions, confusion, mixed with a bit of joy and worry raged within her. “You don’t understand. She’s my sister.”…


	3. A Choice

     It was dark. Even though she could not see, Charlotte sensed that her surroundings were closing in on her, like a throbbing pain that grows thicker and thicker until you can’t stand it anymore. She fell to her knees, feeling dizzy and lightheaded; the ground underneath her was cold, feeling almost as if it were wet. The area was mostly silent, save for the hint of fuzziness in the air, like a bad radio signal; Charlotte could depict it right away. Over time it grew until all that remained of the silence around her was something distorted and deep, almost as if someone were laughing. It started in low, and then it changed into the voice of a child, or maybe a woman. Why were they laughing at her? Charlotte tried to move, but it seemed the ground was holding her down, refusing to let her go. The moment she tried to get on her feet, everything around her grew still. The sound of her own breath was louder and fiercer than the taunting laughter she had heard a moment ago. Then, there was a voice. It was gentle as it spoke, but Charlotte knew there was something wrong within its words. “Where are you going?” it said. It sounded almost familiar, but then again it did not. The appearance of the voice did not seem right. When she didn’t respond, it asked her again, “Where are you going?”

  
    “I want out.” Charlotte said simply. She was terrified, and somehow she knew the voice could tell. Where was it coming from? “Who are you?” Charlotte asked.

  
    Then the voice laughed. It laughed for a long time, forcing Charlotte to retreat against the cold ground. “You can’t leave," it said. Then once again, the voice distorted into something else, something darker. The atmosphere of the room grew chilled, bad vibrations swam through Charlotte's body, traveling under her skin.

  
    Charlotte grew paralyzed. She could suddenly feel the presence of someone else in the room with her. The air grew thick, and then she felt the aura of a different darkness around her, and with it came a cold much less bearable than the cold before. She couldn’t turn to face the new arrival; she didn’t have time to. In a single moment, just after the realization of another’s entry, Charlotte felt the slightly warm sensation of one’s breath caressing her ear. "You can't leave me, Charlotte." said the voice directly behind her. A hand, chilled as ice, caressed the back of her neck and brushed her long, blazing hair (Which, because as loose as it hung, was odd to Charlotte, who rarely let her red locks free of the usual bun or pony tail she kept them in) around her left shoulder, covering her chest completely. Her back felt bare, as did her shoulders. Too distracted by the cold touch of her intruder, Charlotte did not realize she was suddenly wearing the same glistering gown Meagan had bought her for the ball at the Art Museum. As cold as the touch of fingers against her neck, yet gentle and sweet as the flow of honey and milk, the voice spoke on, though this time much closer to Charlotte's ear. "You belong with me, Charlotte." It said. Belong with or belong to, Charlotte wondered. She couldn't really tell, but at the moment she didn't care. Why did she not care?

  
    The voice had a clear angelic tone to it, yet there was definitely something wicked trapped within its words. It captivated Charlotte, as if free will had existed even before the silence. No doubt it had an evil plan involving her someway, no doubt it was some tool meant to deceive her into thinking only friends surrounded her. Even so, she could not resist the temptation. She took in every word the voice said, lovingly. "Do you not agree?" the voice asked. Without thinking, with absolutely nothing running through her mind now except the soft touch of cold fingers, Charlotte slowly closed her eyes and smiled.

  
    It all came too fast for Charlotte to comprehend. In one moment, she felt the world spinning, spinning way to fast. Her insides didn't know where exactly they belonged. Her mind became clouded with questions of where she was and what had suddenly happened. It seemed the darkness was thickening. And then everything stopped. So her insides could settle back to their proper places and her body be released from this dizziness, Charlotte held her hands out to catch something to hold her up. Her first hand griped a broad, yet boney surface, which filled her palm perfectly. The fingers of her second hand slipped into the empty spaces between another's. They held her tightly, a strong yet gently grip. Charlotte felt herself tense, and then her body and mind slowly slipped into a deep state of relaxation. She felt calm, carefree, and bold. Nothing would frighten her, not even the pair of eyes that met hers in a sudden rush.

  
    They were dark, yet beautiful. A wonderful combination of blue and green. As Charlotte shared their gaze, she felt nothing in the world could harm her. They seemed familiar in a way. As familiar as her own heartbeat, and twice as friendly. The face that held them was just as lovely. The face of a man. He seemed pale against the darkness. His features were strong and captivating, and just as familiar as everything else about him. Especially his voice.

  
    "Charlotte." he said, a smile playing at his lips. Oh, where had she heard such a voice before? Beautiful. Kind. Simply, lovely.

  
    "Yes?" her own voice sounded weak and frail compared to his. She sounded unsure of herself. Afraid. Lost, like, she didn't know exactly who she was. All that escaped her mind, though, when he slipped his other hand around her waist and swayed her away from her worries. Her steps could hardly follow his with as much finesse, but she managed her best. All in all, it didn't seem to matter to him.

  
    As he held her to him, he stared deep into her eyes. He appeared to drill holes into her very soul, like she could hide nothing from him. Then he breathed out, smiling. "What can you tell me . . . about your sister?" a question Charlotte had not expected in one-hundred years. She stopped dancing for a moment, her eyes drifting away from his to the floor, which was as black as the rest of their surroundings. Charlotte's thoughts drifted down a path they had not wondered in years. Natalia. "Charlotte . . ."

  
    Charlotte brought her eyes back to his. She focused on his face, the concern in his eyes, the way his thin lips pressed together, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "My sister," Charlotte finally breathed. As she let out the breath, a certain pain arose in her throat. She felt the dizziness return to her body, something else clouded her thoughts. Then man holding Charlotte griped her tighter and continued the dance. He moved gracefully. This aura of darkness lingered in the air above him; Charlotte could sense it, but he made it appear beautiful as he swung her around in his arms, holding her as carefully as a china doll. This distracted Charlotte, and she forgot her confusion for a moment.

  
    "You seem hesitant to talk about her," he told her. Charlotte took in a deep breath, forcing a smile on her face.

  
    "Not at all...What do you want to know?" She made out to sound confident, when she truly dreaded the subject. She suddenly felt regret at her words.

  
    The man smiled. Before he answered, he gently pushed Charlotte away, outstretched their arms, and spun her underneath them. Her dress caressed her long legs as it twirled around and around, the glistering gold strands sparkling widely, becoming like a thousand lights in the darkness. Her hair flowed in the air, catching the black abyss ablaze. In this moment, Charlotte felt strong. For the first time in a long time, she felt beautiful, in control. She even let out a small, laugh of joy. The man brought her back in his arms, her face mere inches from his. The power in his grasp instantly sucked the pride from within Charlotte. The smile wiped clean from her face. She was, again, paralyzed.

  
    The man pulled her in closer, his lips caressing her ear. "Why did she kill him, Charlotte?" he asked.

  
    Charlotte sucked in a harsh breath. Her hold on his shoulder tightened and in response his fingers squeezed hers on her other hand. She pulled back from him, eyes wide in horror. Something in his face had changed. His eyes were darker, more grey than anything. His thin lips curved into an unsettling smile. Even his skin took on a darker, unnerving shade. When Charlotte struggled to release herself from his grasp, he only pulled her closer. "Samuel, Charlotte. Why did Natalia kill him?"

  
    "I-" Charlotte could feel tears building. As they poured down her face, they burned and ached, shortly preventing her sight.

  
    "Why, Charlotte?" His voice rose in anger. He released her only for a moment then grabbed a hold of both her shoulders. His grip was harsh. In his anger, he violently shook Charlotte, furthering the rate of her tears. "Answer me!" he screamed, only he sounding different. His voice had changed into something evil, almost demonic. Charlotte clamped her eyes shut. "ANSWER ME!"  
   

* * *

  
    Charlotte woke up. Her body automatically sprung from rough sheets like it had practiced this more than once. It took a moment for Charlotte to catch her breath. She didn't so gracefully at first. Her breath came to her in gasps, which caused her to cough, viciously. Once she started, she couldn't stop. She swung her legs over the unfamiliar bed and bent her body over the floor, just in case her body decided to throw up, which was not uncommon with Charlotte. She struggled to keep calm. Her throat retracted, over and over. She knew it was unwise to hold a hand over her mouth as an attempt to hold it in, as experience would tell. She just let it happen, since it was not entirely in her power to control.  
Her stomach emptied itself on the white, tiled floor, inches from her bare feet, which she recoiled from the mess. Bile exited through her nose, and felt as if it would continue out her eyes as well.

  
    It was then Charlotte felt someone else in this unfamiliar room. It helped to realize this when she heard the person moving toward her in a hurry. The hands that met her shoulders were gentle, definitely not like the man in her dream. They were there to help, she understood this the moment they helped her off the bed to a toilet, which wasn't that far from where she sat. They pulled her hair out of her face and held it securely behind her head. When Charlotte had finished, the coughing returned.

  
    "Glubokiy vdokh, Sharlotta," said whomever was lending her a friendly hand. It was a woman, and the language was Russian. Charlotte knew it all too well, especially growing up. She obeyed, closing her mouth and forcing deep breaths through her nose. "Again," the woman ordered, and Charlotte obliged. She pulled Charlotte's hair tightly and proceeded to tie it in place. Then the woman stood and turned her back to Charlotte. "Clean yourself up, and I'll be back with something." She said as she exited the small bathroom. All Charlotte caught of the woman before the door closed was a black suit and short, maybe red hair.

  
    Charlotte flushed the toilet and slowly stood. Wobbling slightly, she leaned into the sink and turned the cold faucet handle. The chilled water felt wonderful on her unnaturally warm skin. She gargled it through her mouth, then blew her nose a few times, until she finally ducked her entire head under the water, soaking her face and hair, which she pulled from the tie.

  
    The water dripped down her neck, damping the breast line of the white tank-top she realized she was wearing. She took a moment then to examine her clothing through a tall mirror attached to the back of the door. There was the tank-top, which now revealed more of her chest than anticipated; she took a towel from a nearby shelf to soak up some of the unwanted saturation. On her legs she wore long, black pants which felt tight on her waist and behind. A small, nylon belt looped around her waist, seemingly completing the look. Charlotte never admired certain areas of her body, thinking they held nothing special, but she had to admit she liked the way she looked in this simple outfit.

  
    A few minutes went by. Charlotte sat on the seat of the toilet to try and gather all that was going on. What was happening to her? Where was she? She tried to recall her dream and what had happened the night previous, but the cool touch of the small locket that thankfully still hung around her neck brought her thoughts away from this unfamiliar place as she scooped it into her palm and stared at the pretty design carved its edges. Shem smiled and opened it for probably the millionth time.  
The locket was given to her by her sister when the two were still young. It was made of a light metal, coated in a shining gold paint, which had just started to ware away. On the right side (where a photo of the two sisters would have been had Natalia not burned every last one of her before she disappeared) was a picture of Meagan and Charlotte peeking their heads out of their childhood tree house Meagan’s father had built for them. She remembered the times the two had in that old tree house, she recalled the plans they made for each other’s futures, and the promise they made to always be friends, no matter what. On the other half of the locket was a picture of Charlotte, her arms wrapped around the neck of a tall, handsome young man. The two stared at one another, smiles brightening the fall-themed photo. If the picture had not been in the locket, safely wrapped around its gold edges, it would have withered until unrecognizable years ago from Charlotte constantly looking at it.   
The memories that came after staring at the cursed photo always brought Charlotte to tears. Samuel . . . how she missed him. Nothing could compare to the affliction she felt the day he died, and it only grew as time passed. Sometimes she was able to forget her pain, but these moments of peace never lasted long, and if they did then the hurt that followed was only greater in comparison. In this moment, Charlotte couldn't contain the tears. It'd been awhile since she cried over him: a few weeks, maybe. The time that Charlotte had first met the God of Mischief, after the night he'd disappeared from her house, was the time Charlotte began thinking of Samuel the most. Meagan blamed Loki for her best friend's unsociable behavior, when in fact it was Charlotte trying to protect Meagan from the hassle of comforting her. Everyone had believed she'd moved on, but she was quite the deceptive person when she wanted to be. Charlotte wiped the tears from her face.  
As if the gods had agreed to finally free her of such suffering thoughts, commotion on the the side of the door tore Charlotte away from her memories. Wiping her face tried with one of the spare towels, she stood from the toilet and ringed the remaining water from her hair into the sink, and did her best to tie it back into a tight bun. Conveniently, a black, leather jacket hung on the wall near the towels. Charlotte put it on and zipped it to her neck before leaving the bathroom, tucking the locket underneath.

  
    The room outside was clean and smelt of nothing but dust, thank God. Charlotte caught a man standing posted by the bed she had been laying in minutes before. He was setting something on the table beside it, she couldn't see past him. "Hello?" she called, startling the man a bit. He turned and froze, hands instantly finding each other behind his back. He stood like a soldier would, tall and proud, though he had a face far more handsome than any man she'd met before. He wore dark corduroys and a tight blue t-shit, as plain as ever, but Charlotte could clearly see biceps and abs on every inch of him. He had a strong, clean-shaven face, but there was no mistaking a boyish glint in his eye. His blonde hair was not shaven like most soldiers she'd seen, but let loose above his forehead, a slick curl in his bangs, like a forties movie star. He kindly stared at her with soft, blue eyes.

  
    "Ma’am." he said simply. Charlotte curiously moved around him, and he side-stepped out of her way. There was a glass of water and a small plastic cup beside it sitting on the bedside table. The plastic cup held a pair of pink pills, probably for her stomach. "To settle the nerves, on behalf of your - the previous agent. She recommended it."

  
    "Who was she? I didn't get a name." Charlotte said, drowning the pills into her stomach. The cool water tasted heavenly and felt soothing against her aching throat. She drank ever bit of it, wanting more when it was gone.

  
    "Just the agent assigned during that period. We want to make sure you're taken good care of, ma'am."

  
    "Why is that?" Charlotte took a better look of the room that held them both. It was simple enough, and small, like a hotel room, but much barer. There wasn't even a TV. "Where am I?" she asked.

  
    "You're currently accompanying the SHIELD agency, ma'am. We have in our custody a certain criminal, we believe you've been in contact with him. This is simply for your protection."

  
    "My protection? Wait . . . what criminal? What's going on? Wha . . . what's."

  
    "Ma'am?"

  
    Charlotte held a hand to her forehead as pain arose in the most vicious nature. Everything from the previous night suddenly became pouring back to her. The soldier helped her back to the bed so she could relax. The events bounced about in her mind: flying to Germany, the ball, and then the attack . . .

  
    "Meagan," Charlotte breathed silently. Oh, how could she have forgotten? The last she could remember, Meagan had been bleeding to death on the floor of the museum, and she hadn't even helped her! "Meagan!"

  
    Charlotte sprung from the bed in a rush to go . . . well, anywhere. She wanted out of this place. She had to help her friend! "My friend, she's badly hurt! Please, we need to-"

  
    "Ma'am." The man attempted to set her back on the bed, Charlotte simply shoved his heavy arms away.

  
    "No, you don't understand. She could die! Oh, God, it's all my fault . . ."

  
    The soldier successfully grasped Charlotte and sat her down, his eyes holding hers in a desperate gaze. "Ma'am, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Your friend was taken to the hospital last night." At his words, Charlotte sank into the bed with relief. Tears that threatened to escape did so willingly. She took in a deep breath then slowly let it out again, so not to go back into a panic. "The doctor informed us she'll be back in America within a few days," he went on.

  
    Charlotte met his gaze again with a weak smile. "Thank you." she said simply. She felt overly assured when he smiled back at her, standing upright in his soldier position. After a few seconds, giving the chills in her body time to wither away and disperse, she stood to mirror the soldier, which amuse him. He really had a wonderful smile.

  
    "Are you up for questioning about the situation in Germany?" he asked.

  
    Charlotte nodded. "Sure," she said weakly. She took another deep breath.

  
    "Then another agent will be by shortly to do so. Ma'am." He slightly nodded toward her, and then he turned back to the door, which slid up as he approached it. Charlotte stumbled after him.

  
    "Wait a second." she called with a bit of a laugh. He turned just before exiting the room.

  
    "Did you need something else, Ma'am?" So formal, Charlotte thought. Definitely not like any other soldiers she'd known, which wasn't very many really. Who was this guy?

  
    "What's your name?" Charlotte asked, which seemed to surprise the man. He stood at attention again, hands behind his back.

  
    "Captain Steve Rogers, Ma'am." Where had she heard that name before?

  
    "Please, you can stop calling me ma'am. My name's Charlotte." She held out her hand as offering. "Charlotte Romanova. Nice to meet you . . . Captain."

  
    Steve Rogers took her hand and, as much as he could manage with his strong grip, gently shook it. "Nice to meet you . . . Charlotte." he replied.

  
    The two smiled at one another. For a moment, Charlotte's eyes grazed over Steve's features, but only for a moment. He didn't seem to notice. Seriously, if beauty had a face . . .

  
    "Is that all you need, ma - Charlotte?" Steve asked. Charlotte giggled, though there was something she'd been wondering.

  
    "Actually, I'm still a little confused about my situation . . . How long will I be here?"

  
    "Just until we can get our prisoner safely secured at another facility. A couple of days, maybe."

  
    "I see. Can I look around at least until then?" Steve looked unsettled at her question.

  
    "I wouldn't recommend it, ma - Charlotte. I’m sure you can ask the next agent about your privileges." Charlotte was disappointed by this. Of course, she'd never been in this sort of situation before, and never again did she want to be, but the idea was still exciting. With a hint of concern in his voice, Steve added, "There's really nothing special about this place. I'm still getting used to it, myself." Charlotte smiled in appreciation.

  
    "Well, thanks for the water and pills."

  
    "You’re welcome." For a second time, Steve turned to leave.

  
    "Can I call on you again if I need anything?" Charlotte called after him. For a second time, Steve stopped at the door. He smiled back at her, that boyish glint returning in his eyes.

  
    "Yes, Ma'am," he replied. Then he left. What a charm, Charlotte thought.

  
    The moment the door closed behind Steve and all became silent again, Charlotte's mind crowded around the events that had happened so far, and then over one subject only: Loki. The man in her dream, there was no doubt in her mind it was him, and this prisoner Steve told her about, could it be Loki as well? It had to be. Charlotte didn't know what was going to happen to him, or her for that matter, but she needed answers. And she wasn't going to wait around for another 'agent' to ask them.   
A pair of black boots waited for her just beside the door. She quickly slipped them on, then waited several minutes for the sounds outside the room to die down. She heard a few chatting people pass her door, but none of them entered. She figured now was the time to leave before one of them did.

  
Silence took over the hall outside Charlotte’s bedroom. She looked both ways, then contemplated which way to go. Voices coming from her right forced her to the left path. She walked calmly, standing up straight, hands at her sides. As she walked the halls, after a few curious eyes met hers in distaste, Charlotte decided to spiff herself up to look more the part. Assured no one else was coming her way, she took out her hair and brushed it as much as she could with her fingers, then tied in a neat, high ponytail. She unzipped the jacket and neatly tucked the white tank-top into her pants (which was easier said than done), then zipped the jacket up again, but not enough to cover her locket.

  
    Satisfied with her appearance (slightly wondering why she didn't do this back in the bathroom), Charlotte went on down the hall. She did pass by one or two other agents from time to time, but none of them paid her any attention, for which she was grateful. She wondered through suspicious rooms, and more empty halls. One room in particular held a mass amount of darkly dressed bodies, causing Charlotte to retreat away from the door. With a deep breath, she found herself peeking through the doorway again. What she saw amazed her.

  
    Computers lined the walls. People scattered around in a fuss, following the orders, Charlotte noticed, of a man dressed in a long, black cape. He bent over a small ring of . . . well, tech-like surfaces, his back turned to her. Everything looked far too advanced for Charlotte to understand. But, what startled Charlotte the most was the view the large, wide windows in the very front of the room provided. Where she expected to see a yard, or a street, or even the ocean, there were clouds and a bright blue sky. They were in the air, flying!

  
    "What the hell?" Charlotte whispered.

  
    Something else happened then, taking Charlotte's mind off the sky. Lights flashed in the screens of every computer. The people surrounding them blew out in a panic. The man in the cape, now turned slightly toward her, had a look of irritation, maybe anger in his . . . eye. What was happening? Where exactly was she? Who were these people? Charlotte needed to get out of here. Protection or not, this was all way too weird. She flung herself away from the room when the man in the cape bolted toward the door. She continued down the series of halls, but she could hear the footsteps of the caped-man behind her. Charlotte quickly found a small space in the wall to hide in, allowing him to pass her. He didn't notice her, he just kept going. After he was a few steps ahead of her, she followed him. She kept quiet, making not a single sound. She stepped only when he did and when he turned down another hall, she moved right behind him so not to catch the corner of his eye (Though Charlotte and her sister didn't have much of relationship now, she never forgot the few things Natalia was able to teach her before she vanished).

  
    Charlotte kept on the caped man's trail, unsure of what outcome this would have, until something caught her attention and she stopped. Another hall, but this one was darker than the rest, and more confined. Glancing in the direction of the caped-man, she went into this new hall. It led to a wide room with small walkways hovering over steep, metal trenched. There were no windows, and very few lights. A small computer stood against a wall just ahead of her, and a wider walkway led to a large, glass chamber which stood in the center of the room. Charlotte sucked in a gasp.

  
    On a small bench against the glass's edge sat Loki. His head was bent low, like he was resting. His hands placed themselves over each knee. He looked calm, at peace. Charlotte cautiously stepped on the walkway; though she had made no sound coming in, these steps echoed through the metal room, rang loudly in her ears, causing Loki to glance up at her. His icy gaze met hers, paralyzing her in place. He smiled.

  
    "I've been waiting." he said, far too coolly. It unsettled Charlotte, but she stood up straight and let out the breath she'd been holding. She made her best to appear calm. Unlike in her dream, he seemed to buy it.

  
    "You knew I was here?" she asked. Loki nodded.

  
    "It was at my request." he informed her. This surprised Charlotte, but she didn't let it show on her face, another technique she'd learned from her sister.

  
    Of all the things Charlotte wanted to ask him, to bring to his attention, there was one thing she wanted to confront him about first. She stepped closer to the cage, almost touching the glass. "You attacked Meagan." Charlotte said with anger in her voice, which Loki could plainly detect. However, her attempt to faze him was far from successful.

  
    "I've killed hundreds." Loki replied, too quickly. He didn't even flinch.

  
    Charlotte’s brows furrowed. The confusion from she felt his words filled her with a sudden urgency to lash out at the class container, even knowing nothing would come out of it. Her effort to keep a serene profile vanished at the sound of her frail voice. "Why?" she asked.

  
    Loki stood from the bench then. He walked, as gracefully as in the dream, toward the glass. His expression matched Charlotte's, but she knew pity was not the cause. "You don't get it. This isn't a game, Charlotte."

  
    "Isn't it?" Charlotte cut in. She recalled all too well his act back in Stuttgart. What had he hoped to accomplish? "You're toying with human lives, like pawns. You played King in Germany, and for what? You really think you can just come to Earth and become our ruler, just like that? Look where you are, Loki." Charlotte surprised herself after saying this. Where was this courage coming from? She'd never known it before. Still, nothing she said appeared to grasp him at all. He simply turned from her, a smug look on his face.

  
    "What do you know? Nothing, just like the simple human girl I’d first met. You wouldn't know I've planned my escape since arriving here. You wouldn't know of the force I can wield . . ." Loki smiled again and turned back to Charlotte. "And, you wouldn't know I've just recently had a visitor, not moments before you arrived. She was desperately fascinated about you, asked so many questions."

  
    "Who?" Charlotte asked, though it wasn't really hard for her to guess; the voice from the jet back in Germany, the red headed woman who had helped her earlier, who spoke to her in Russian. How had she known Charlotte would understand? The puzzle wasn't too complicated to place together. She had gotten her wish, after all (sort of). Why would she not believe Natalia was somehow a part of all this? Still, Loki ignored her. He began pacing back in forth in his class cage.

  
    "She asked if I had somehow taken control of your mind, if I'd done something to manipulate you. The look on her face when I said I didn't have to. But then, that wasn't a lie, was it Charlotte?"

  
    "Who?" Charlotte asked again. She needed to hear her name.

  
    "Oh, I think you know." Loki said, eyes glaring into hers. "Who else would care? Not Meagan, certainly not Captain Rogers."  
    "How did-"

  
    "Then, I should think she never really cared either, leaving you so young.” He rambled on. “And then this accident with one Samuel Fischer. Innocence taken at the hand of your own blood."

  
    "Stop it." Charlotte's gaze fled to his feet. How did he know all this?

  
    She could feel his taunting smile on her. "Why did she kill him, Charlotte? Why did your own sister betray you?"

  
    "Stop!" Charlotte shouted, covering her ears tightly. The dream. It was happening all over again. How was this possible? Was this some sort of power Loki could conjure? Could he really enter her dreams? Why was he doing this?

  
    Something happened then. Charlotte felt the whole ship rumble beneath her, she had to find her balance for a moment. The ship groaned like a fierce animal. Lights flickered. In the distance, Charlotte heard screams. What was happening now? She turned back to Loki, who was now sitting back on the bench she'd found him in earlier. "Your exit?" Charlotte asked. Loki was no longer smiling.

  
    "You have to make a choice, Charlotte." He said, catching her full attention again. His tone was different. He suddenly appeared impatient, tired even. "Agent Romanoff betrayed you. She fled and never returned. Do you call that justice?"  
    "She had her reasons." Charlotte replied in a harsh tone.

  
    "Reasons never explained. She deserves punishment."

  
    "And you would bring this . . . punishment? For what?” She paused, then hesitantly added, sounding more curious than expected, “What concern is my relationship with my sister to you?"

  
    The look in Loki's eyes changed. It wasn't anger, or irritation, or even sarcasm. Loki stared back at her in concern, maybe even pity. "I could tell you of my understanding of betrayal, but another time. As for the price, well." That derisive, side smile of his returned. "You've already given me everything." Of course, Charlotte knew what he meant. Surely this ‘vow’ would be the end of her, but it was for a good cause. At least Megan is safe, Charlotte thought to herself.

  
    Both Loki and Charlotte's attentions were directed away from each other when a fierce roar echoed through the ship's hull. It struck Charlotte with terror. What the hell did they keep on this ship? Loki, however, smiled wider as the terrible cry reached his ears. Charlotte saw this pleased look on his face and grew even more horrified. What exactly was he planning? Whatever it was, she wasn't going to stick around to find out. Charlotte backed away from the glass, sharing a tight, vacant gaze with Loki until she took her last step within his sight. Even after she’d gone, he stared long at hard at the entrance, as if waiting for someone else to emerge.

  
    Back in the hall, agents ran past Charlotte in a hurry. They didn't care about her at all. As they scurried off, Charlotte caught glimpses of guns in each of their hands. She curiously ran after them, until she heard gunfire. She hid in another parting in the wall as more bodies ran past her. These men were different, completely cloaked in armor, with much bigger guns. When it was all clear, Charlotte ran in the opposite direction. She stopped upon coming to a pile of dead men, the same men who had past her not seconds before. What the hell was going on? She didn't have time to think about it. Gunfire raged behind her. As instincts clicked in, Charlotte jumped forward, swinging behind another wall. Her heart raced within her, fear climbing into her throat. She felt it retracting again. Oh, no you don’t, she thought. She was going to get out of this scenario. She desperately looked for her escape. To her right, there was another empty hall, but she considered how long she’d last while someone with a gun was chasing her. On the ground to her left lay a pistol. Whoever had been shooting at her was coming. She needed to act.

  
    Charlotte quickly reached for the pistol, but not fast enough. More bullets fired, one grazing the top of her hand. Charlotte cried out and winced back. Blood poured from the wound. Now what, she thought. She stood and waited for her attacker. Not long after, he came flying around the corner. Seeing his target was not there like predicted, he stopped and pointed his gun. Charlotte, squeezing between another gap much smaller than the rest, silently waited for the attacker to pass her. She held her breath. He past, now slightly ahead of her. Charlotte jumped out.

  
The man spun around as Charlotte reached for his weapon. He fired, barely missing her, though leaving a loud ring in her ears. She held her grasp on the gun, lowering it as much as she could. She elbowed the man in the throat and he jumped back, only slightly startled. She tried gripping the gun tighter, but no matter how hard she pulled, the man would not release it. The strain in Charlotte’s wound felt as if her entire hand would start on fire. She pulled back, losing grip on the gun. The man immediately posed to shoot again, but Charlotte was quick. She ducked under him, sliding between his legs, and rose to her feet behind him. As he turned, she grabbed hold of the gun again. This time she threw several kicks at him, only missing the part she desperately tried to hit. This man was relentless. Charlotte attempted to lower the weapon again, now ignoring the pain that shot up her entire arm. One of her kicks successfully landed on his shin, initiating the attacker to stumble back. She took what opportunity she hand and swung her body above him, gripping her tightest on the gun, grunting at the pain in her hand. She twisted it out of his hold as she came back down to her feet, back facing him. In an instant, Charlotte heard the ring of a blade leave its case and she whirled back toward her foe and fired. He lunged at her, but the bullets hit their target. He dropped the knife, but found a grip on Charlotte's hair with his free hand, pulling it as he fell. She kicked him away from her with an angry grunt. He fell to the ground then, lifeless.

  
    Charlotte could only just keep her breathing at the appropriate level. I won, she thought at first. But, staring at this man's lifeless body changed her attitude immediately. She stood, letting the hand holding the gun fall to her side. There was no easy way of coming out of this: she had just killed a man. Who that man was, she didn't know, and now would never know. He would have killed you, a voice in her head told her. Charlotte sighed. Still, she'd ended his life, something she at least would not easily live with.

  
    Finally prying her eyes away from the corpse, Charlotte took the gun in both hands and ran down the empty hallway. The tie in her hair now half-way loose, and a pain running through her head, Charlotte released her long, red hair and threw it behind her. What did it matter now? Around another corner where not as many voices surrounded her, she stopped to look at her hand. Blood dripped from the gash, but she had nothing to cover it with at the moment. Well except . . . Charlotte rolled her eyes. She dropped the gun and unzipped her jacket, un-tucking the white tank-top. She ripped the bottom of the shirt all around to use as a wrap, and that was when Charlotte thought of something she'd seen in a movie years ago. She picked the gun up and fired it away from her. Bracing herself, though not taking too much time, she pressed the back of her hand to the gun's barrel. The heat was unbearable. She cried out, tears coming to her eyes. Her skin sizzled, she could hear it. Charlotte quickly dropped the gun and wrapped the part of her shirt around the wound. Each time the fabric came over the bloodstained gash, she let out a small grunt. After the ‘gauze’ was secure, she couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for the tip, Violet,”* she laughed, straitening up again. And then she went on to find some way out of this place.

  
    As she wandered, weaving in and out of rooms and halls, with no sign of more of those armored men, Charlotte found herself on the surface of the ship. It looked nothing more than a regular carrier, except this ship was in the air. What few jets remained from the ship tilting this way and that earlier lay scattered from one end to the other. No one seemed to be up here, for good reason. Charlotte saw one of the engines completely blown to smithereens. Another wasn't spinning at all. She finally realized what this force was that pulled the ship down to Earth. They were falling. Charlotte ran to one of the jets, the only one that still looked intact. She didn't know how to fly, but she could try.

  
    Before Charlotte began climbing it, another jet caught her attention. A jet that was already running. She ran to that one instead, not anticipating that it could belong to the enemy. After a few seconds, she stopped. She readied her weapon. At the moment, someone was currently boarding this jet: Loki. How he’d gotten free she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know. He sat on one of the back seats, a large staff in his hand. It was the same one he had back in Germany, Charlotte recognized. She didn't know what to do. She had a gun, should she fire at the jet? Would Loki kill her if she tried? Whatever had to be done, Charlotte couldn't achieve it. She just stared, until Loki realized she was standing there. He said something then, but she was too far away to hear him. Was he telling the pilot to wait?

  
     Charlotte took in a deep breath and raised the gun . . . and then she let it drop. Loki smiled; she could see it clear as day. She didn’t care. She knew he understood: this was her plea.


	4. The Last Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. I know I should have put these up way sooner. I've tried my best, but now here they are. Enjoy! I'll try to update as soon as I possibly can. Thanks you guys!

     Meagan's eyes flickered open at the touch of something rubbing against her arm, which lay beside her flat against the hospital bed. She couldn't see the interior of the dim-lit room, her eyes felt heavy as they adjusted to the darkness. She'd realized she was in a hospital bed earlier, but awaking for the second time that day, she noticed there was something different within the room's walls. A figure stood hovering over her, a hand gently grasping hers. Another couple of seconds and Meagan could clearly see her visitor's face, which shined wet with tears. Her lips slowly stretched into a weak smile. She partially closed her eyes again, but only for a moment.

  
    "Hey, you." she sad, her voice hardly rising above a whisper. "I was wondering when you'd come visit me."

  
    Charlotte smiled down at her friend. She lowered herself in the chair just beside the bed, her other hand covering that of her friend's. She brought Meagan's cold fingers to her lips, a form of apology. How pale Meagan looked. When Charlotte first entered the room, she'd burst into tears at the mere sight of her. She'd never seen her friend in this state before, and she couldn't help but blame herself for what had happened.

  
    "I would have come sooner," Charlotte finally breathed, sitting up in the chair. She couldn't lie to Meagan, not like this. It would break her. "I was held back," she simply added. Meagan nodded, though inside she didn't quite understand. She was too tired to ask, too tired to drag an explanation out of Charlotte. She just wanted to enjoy her best friend's company before she fell asleep again.

  
    "Are you alright?" Meagan asked. Charlotte nodded. She laughed a little, admiring her friend's strength.

  
    "Just like you, worrying about others even in this state." Charlotte pointed out. She wanted to say something clever to make Meagan feel better, but "That'll be the death of you, you know" sounded a bit inappropriate. Her grip on Meagan's hand tightened a bit. "How are you doing?"

  
    Meagan let out a small laugh, but gasped at the pain in her belly. Charlotte leaned toward her in worry, but Meagan assured her she was fine with a wave of her other hand. She took a deep breath, then smiled again. "Like I've been stabbed in the gut." she said. It would have sounded more sarcastic would she have had a little more strength to project in her voice. Charlotte knew exactly how she'd sound.

  
    More tears trickled down the soft skin of Charlotte's cheeks. Her smile faded, replaced by a look that mirrored how quilty she actually felt. Meagan's brows furrowed and she rose her free hand to wipe the tears away. "Char . . ."

  
    "It's all my fault," Charlotte cried. She sniffled in hard, feeling as if she would vomit again (she held in this feeling, for Meagan's sake). The pain in her chest grew thicker as Meagan wiped her face dry. "I shouldn't have called you that night. If I had left you out of it, you would be fine, now."

  
    "Oh, Char. You think I wouldn't have noticed something was wrong with you after the fact?" Meagan asked. She attempted to sit up, but the agony in her stomach prevented her to, but she tried her best to hide it from Charlotte. "I would have told you about the ball regardless. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I was the idiot who attacked him, even knowing what he was."

  
    Charlotte violently shook her head. Her palms grew wet with sweat as the guilt roused within her, traveling to her throat. She was certain Meagan could see it pouring out of her nose, her ears, and the words that came out of her mouth. "If I had just come to the city the first time you asked, if I hadn't let my fear get the better of me, I would have never found the tornado. This never would have happened."

  
    "Charlotte, no." Meagan said, her tone stronger than before. It hurt, but she needed Charlotte to hear her clearly. "I knew you weren't ready to leave. I knew you couldn't. I was pushing you too hard." Charlotte could hear the pain in her voice, she could feel the energy being drained from her at her attempt to appear less feeble than her body was. Charlotte didn't argue, she didn't want her friend to get too worked up. She wasn't going to agree with her either, even though she kind of wanted to.  Kind of.

  
    Meagan sighed. She brought her free hand over the others, staring earnestly into her best friends eyes. "I know you miss him." she said, which led Charlotte to look away. She hated bringing this subject up with Meagan. Meagan had tried so many times for so long to get her to talk about it, to listen to her advice, but Charlotte never did. She pushed it away, sweeping it under the carpet for another day, a day that never came. Even if Meagan got her to sit and talk to her, she never did anything but ramble and rage and hate the world, wishing everyone would stop telling her everything was going to be alright. Finally Meagan just stopped bringing the topic up, and Charlotte huddled into herself without a care in the world. They went half a year without speaking to one another, until Charlotte finally realized how childish she was being.

  
    To hear Meagan bring him up now, it hurt more than anything, but she listened. If she could do anything for her friend now, she would listen. "I know how hard it's been on you without him," Meagan continued, "even after these past few years. I know you haven't left, because your afraid if you do then nothing will be the same. You still feel him in that house, and that's why you can't leave. That's why you never took my advice, or never heeded me when I tried to talk to you about it. You didn't talk about it, because you didn't want to believe it had really happened. You didn't let me in, because if you didn't let anyone in . . ."

  
     "He wouldn't really be gone," Charlotte finished. Meagan was glad to hear to her say it, finaly. And she was right, Charlotte was afraid. She was afraid of moving on, afraid she wouldn't be the same person. Samuel had made her into the person she was today, despite what her sister had accused him of. He'd rescued her from death, carried her through the loneliness without Natasha, and introduced her to her love of painting, to her love of the world. Who would she be without him?

  
    Charlotte bent her head to the blankets on Meagan's bead. She wept, for both the memories of Samuel and the pain she'd put her friend through. She felt so confused, her mind vibrated with too many thoughts, too many pains. She felt if she spoke, nothing would come out but jibber-jabber and tear-filled rambles.

  
    Meagan stroked Charlotte's hair, fingers gently parting the tangled mess of vibrant, red strands. It was all the comfort her weak body could manage. After a few minutes, Charlotte sucked in her blubbering and simply rested her head on the bed. Meagan's breathing slowed as she closed her eyes. When her hand ceased movement, resting on top of Charlotte's head, Charlotte looked up in concern. Meagan was still smiling.

  
    "Despite everything that's happened," she said, "we had a little fun though, didn't we? Coming here to Germany and all. Minus the Asgardian going crazy," she looked at Charlotte again. "We had a good time."

  
    Charlotte smiled through her sobs and nodded. "Yes. It was fun." Another tear fell from her cheek.

  
    Meagan let out a louder, longer sigh. She turned her head on the white pillow, looking as if she would fall asleep. It was almost nap time for her again; Charlotte could see how tired she was. It's what she gets for talking so much, she thought. She brushed her fingers against Meagan's cheek and let the hold on her friend's hand loose. She set it on the bed next to her and rose to her feet again, wiping her warm cheeks free from any remaining tears. Before she turned, Meagan's lips parted.

  
    "He was just like in the legends, you know?" she said, eyes still closed. Charlotte looked down at her, wondering what she meant. "The cruel Prince of Mischief and Lies. Loki's his name, but you already knew that. I remember dad telling me about him. I liked hearing his story, but when I was little it always made me sad."

  
    "What do you mean?" Charlotte asked. She sat back down in the chair.

  
    Meagan laughed a little, this time without pain. "Oh, so now you'll listen."

  
    "Come on, tell me." Charlotte brushed her friend's shoulder. "I don't deserve to be told, but I'd like to hear it."

  
    Meagan heard the sincerity in Charlotte's voice. She took a deep breath. She still hadn't opened her eyes, and she felt an abundant need for sleep, but she could manage a short version at least. "Loki was . . . is, the adopted brother of Thor, God of Thunder and Lightning, and adopted son of Odin, Father of All," she began.

  
    "Adopted?" Charlotte leaned forward in her chair. Meagan opened her eyes and looked at Charlotte in irritation.

  
    "Charlotte, you have a horrible habit. Stop interrupting me. Yes, Loki was adopted. It sound's cliche, but it is how it is." Meagan sighed. "The story started with a war. Odin led his people into a great battle against their enemy, the frost giants from the land of Jotunheim."

  
    "I thought Loki was from Asgard." Charlotte interrupted again. Meagan stopped, holding her breath. Charlotte realized what she had done and held her tongue. She felt like a little child at that moment, hoping Meagan would continue.

  
    "Jotunheim is part of Asgard." Meagan informed her. "It's the ninth world within the realm of Asgard. Can I continue?" Charlotte nodded and sat back in the chair. "Laufey, the king of the frost giants, was slain and the war won, so Odin roamed Jotunheim, gathering the spoils of their victory. That was when he found a baby, hidden in Laufey's fortress."  
    "A baby?"

  
    "An Asgardian baby. It was said that Laufey had a son, but because of his meager size, he kept him locked away in shame. Odin remembered his father's dying words, then. He had wished Odin to adopt one son of any father that he killed, and so Odin adopted this child into his family. He named the infant, Loki."

  
    Charlotte eagerly listened to Meagan's story. She was dazzled at the truth of Loki's heritage, the history of his childhood, the things he did through his teenage years. To know about his life, Charlotte felt more in control, like she had a weapon she could use against him, seeing how he had known almost everything about her . . . almost everything. Then again, she understood why the story made Meagan sad. In the legend, Loki felt like a disgrace compared to his brother. To be denied the throne because of his true parenting, to be looked upon as the lesser of two princes, it was cruel. Charlotte wondered if this tale was really true. "I could tell you of my understanding of betrayal." Those were Loki's words. Had he meant them toward Thor and his supposed father?

  
    As Charlotte pondered on her thoughts, Meagan found herself slowly drifting to sleep. When she stopped talking altogether, Charlotte rose from the chair again. Meagan breathed peacefully, to Charlotte's relief, her chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. She wasn't asleep yet.

  
    "But, seeing him at the ball, something caught me a little off-guard." Meagan said.

  
    His clothes, Charlotte thought to herself. "What?"

  
    Meagan's voice was distant, almost a whisper. "I always thought he'd be . . . shorter."

  
    Charlotte laughed, remembering how insignificant she'd felt while the demi-god stood towering over her the first time they had met. "Yeah, He's pretty tall." she agreed. About as tall as Samuel was, Charlotte recalled, but she didn't say it out loud.

  
    She looked down at Meagan, who appeared to had finally slipped into the world of dreams. Charlotte brushed the hair out of Meagan's face and lightly kissed her forehead. She needed her rest, and after a couple of days she'd be able to go home. But when Charlotte was able to go home herself, she didn't know.

  
    She could take over the jet and try to fly back to Arizona, but she knew that would be less likely to happen, and if even if it did, what would she do from there? She didn't know exactly what events were waiting to unravel. All Charlotte knew was that something big was coming up, and she had two options to consider. She could either escape and pretend all was well with the world, or she could go back to New York and face the person she had been wishing to run into just days before, but now she dreaded the very idea.

  
    When Loki had talked about revenge, something in Charlotte sparked. Natasha killed Samuel, for reasons she descovered were painfully flawed. She'd been looking after her young sister, but even though her actions only left Charlotte to parish in this withering state of loathing and hate for her and the rest of the world, Charlotte had forgiven her. Could she so easily take back that forgiveness, just because she could now do something about it?

  
     Regardless of anything that would soon occur, she had to at least keep what home she had safe, away from the horror of this coming war. Charlotte reached behind her neck and unhooked the chain to her locket. After a moment of hesitation, she set the locket on the table beside Meagan's bed; this was the first time she had removed it in years. She knew Meagan wouldn't know what it meant. It would frighten her, but Charlotte couldn't bring it with her. She couldn't risk its loss.

  
    Charlotte quietly stepped to the door. She stood up straight, forcing herself not to look back, but she couldn't help but hold back outside the hall, her hand still holding tightly onto the door handle. Charlotte pressed her lips together. She was sick of tears, but at least one escaped her eye as she whispered a last goodbye to her friend. She didn't know if she would be greeted with a hello in a couple of days, or is she'd ever see Meagan again. All she could do was hope and pray. To whom was she praying? To anyone, really, even Odin himself. As long as they listened, she didn't care.


	5. Escape with Whiskey and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte ditermines her role in the Avenger's story: Will she take Loki's side or Fight along her sister?

            Loki stood calmly in the darkness of the strange planet. There was not a breeze nor the chirp of a bird as there would have been on Earth. No, this place was cold and chilling. As was the creature with which Loki shared his presence. He wore his full Asgardian attire, the scepter in his hand which was given to him by this creature's master. The humanoid being mocked Loki's steps. He mirrored him as the prince paced back and forth. "We have long prepared for this day," the monster said, tweaking his head to the side whilst staring at the demigod. "yet, your mind is somewhere else."

            Loki looked to the Tutelarian in distaste. "My mind is encased around the coming war and nothing else. There is nothing I desire more than to see the human's fall at my feet," he replied. The Tutelarian still looked at Loki with a displeasing frown, his sharp, kinked teeth glaring as his eyes would.

            "All the humans on Earth at your feet," he let out a slight chuckle, a taunting smile playing at his black lips. "or just one." The glare Loki gave him not only housed his anger, but also his sudden confusion. It boiled within him, the Tutelarian could sense it. He began pacing again, more in a circular pattern around the Asgardian. "You think we have not been watching you? The scepter which you hold has shown us much, including your interest in a certain . . . creature." Loki glared at the space in front of him as the _thing_ openly mocked him. "Now tell me, fallen prince," it went on, "what is your intent in her? Why do you spare her and leave the rest to parish?" At his words, the hold Loki had on the scepter grew tight, his knuckles turning a ghostly white.

            His anger descending, Loki shrugged his shoulders, though the expression on his face remained stern and strictly guided. "She is a tool. A promising prize and nothing more," he said, confidence in his tone. Hearing this, the Tutelarian crossed his fingers together in front of him. The unpleasant frown still remained on his face. He walked to face him again, though not so far off as before.

            "Why not use her through the guidance of the scepter as you have with others?"

            "Why waste power where it isn't needed?" Loki said, a sarcastic smile on his face. It was more to assure the Tutelarian of the abilities he knew Loki possessed, though the ugly creature hardly bought it. He turned from Loki, his arms flopping to his sides in his anger.

            His tone grew impatient, which only pleased the mischievous prince further. "You have courage to mock, Laufeyson." At the mention of his birth name, the smile on Loki's face faded immediately. The Tutelarian went on, "You cannot afford to be distracted. This woman you so desire, she will become a problem." He turned back to Loki, grinding his disgusting teeth. "You must eliminate her." 

            Loki did not flinch at his request. Instead, he laughed. "I can assure you, this will not affect the outcome of this war. You believe me capable of running an army, which I am. What makes you think I can't handle a meager human? She is too valuable to my cause to be wasted. There is no point in it."

             The Tutelarian let out a long breath. "You will not?" he hissed. He slowly advanced toward Loki, clenching his fists in rage. Loki merely stared back at him, an unyielding strength in his expression as the stench of the creature came upon him. The Tutelarian sullenly studied him. "I begin to think, 'Master of Mischief', that this human means more than a meager tool. That maybe . . . you feel for her." Loki said nothing, giving the Tutelarian cause to continue, a scornful smile stretching across his face. "Maybe even love."

            "Then you would be an even greater fool in your assumption." Loki spat. He brought the scepter between them as if daring the Tutelarian to come closer. "This army you bring to my command will prove my strength. It will prove my worthiness to the universe, and I _will_ prove myself. I will not show weakness. I cannot. This . . . thing you call love, it is a weakness, a distraction far beyond all others. I've not known such a cursed thing, and I for one will _not_ fall victim now." He glared on at the creature, who fell silent at his words. He did not fully believe in them, but he would say nothing more of the matter. There were other things that they had to discuss, more important events to plan.

 

~~

 

            The jet lowered to the loft of the top balcony of Stark Tower. When the hatch opened, Charlotte stepped out onto the thin bridge and ran the rest of the way until she was safely inside. She still had not gotten use to the feeling of the emptiness on her chest while flying back to New York; she would constantly reach to grab the locket in forgetfulness that it was no longer there. This upset her in a way, but Charlotte would soon learn to get used to it.

            The stillness of the room gave Charlotte confidence enough to explore, for she had never been in this building before. The first thing that caught her eye was the bar table at the east of the room, then some scattered furniture in the middle of it. Where she had come from, there was a wall of tall windows, from which she could catch a breathtaking sight of sleeping New York City. Two thoughts went through Charlotte's mind then; 1: I could use a drink and 2: Where was Loki? While the whiskey and empty glasses decorating a shelf on the wall behind the bar counter called to her, she couldn't help but wonder where the prince had wandered to. Weighing the possible pros and cons of looking for him, Charlotte finally went to the counter.

            The aroma of the alcohol indulged her. She uncorked a few bottles to smell and taste-test them. All of them filled her with a sudden urgency to forget everything that had happened in the past few days, especially the few recent hours of the day. She wasn't ready for this war. She wasn't ready to face her sister, or even Loki, for that matter. But, how could drowning her worries with whiskey and wine take away those fears? They would come up again in the morning, as would a insufferable pain she did not want to go through. Still, Charlotte pulled out a rather tasteful selection of liquors and chasers for the night. Maybe if she just got a little buzzed, she could get through this and still be fine. There would be no hangover to overcome, and maybe it would give her a little courage to face the events that would occur that next day. Charlotte shoveled ice from the small refrigerator below the table into two tall glasses (one for now, one for later), and then chased it with the amber liquid from one of the Jack Daniels bottles. The smell filled her nostrils lovingly, and she took a swig of the strong liquor before another thought crossed her mind. The burning sensation traveled down her throat and afterward she felt her lips pucker violently, but the warmth that filled her stomach next felt so relieving, she took another swig.

            After the third gulp, Charlotte surveyed the empty room. Her gaze brushed over the couple of couches and chairs parked in a circle around a small coffee table, then to a hall that led down the glass walls to her right. Curiously, she looped around the table down the hall. Shortly after, she discovered a small room filled with books and bulletin boards that hung on the wall. The tables were scattered with blue prints for that exact building, it looked like. The text went on about something to do with an energy mechanism, but Charlotte quickly lost interest. There was a closet to the far back of the room and she casually made her way to it. She nearly dropped her drink at the sudden voice that appeared out of thin air.

            "I would not suggest going through Mr. Stark's closet, Miss." the voice said. It was a low, smooth English voice. Charlotte looked around the room and even back down the hall, but no one could be found. She glanced at the drink in her hand.

            "Damn, that was fast." she mumbled to herself.

            "I would direct you to the gaming room a few floors below, but I'm afraid there is a problem." the voice said again, as casual as if sudden voices were as common as a midday's sun. Charlotte desperately looked around again, but nothing could be found but her reflection in the windows of the wall. The voice seemed to vibrate in the walls, like a surround sound stereo system.

            "Who are you? Show yourself." Charlotte demanded. She wandered back into the other room, but again nothing was to be seen.

            "It appears I cannot, Miss. I am Jarvis, a special intelligence computer program created by Tony Stark. I am programmed to serve Mr. Stark. Upon arriving to Stark Tower, you've appeared to have no threatening attributes or hostile intentions about you, which would leave me to believe you’re a visitor of Tony's, and so I am to treat you as a guest. Is there anything I can assist you in, Miss?" the voice projected.

            Charlotte stared blankly at the ceiling as if a being would appear before her. She was dumbfounded at this Jarvis. What all was he capable of? "Do you have a hologram version of yourself, Jarvis?" Charlotte asked, an excited smile on her face.

            "Unfortunately, no. It was not in my programming." Charlotte's smile faded. She sank into one of the couches, setting her drink on the coffee table. She was being asked to be served by a super computer. What would she ask it? What _could_ she ask it? Could she manipulate it into hacking into top secret networks? Probably not her, but could it do that? Jarvis rang in her ears again. "Would you like me to direct you to a safe location, Miss? Though I have attempted to secure him in his current location, an intruder is sitting a few floors below, yet something is blocking my connection to the phone lines. I can't contact the police."

            Charlotte stood from the couch. "Can you show him to me?" In a few seconds, a digital screen appeared in front of Charlotte. The image was of Loki, as if a camera was pointed at him. He sat in a white chair in a dark room. Charlotte couldn't make out his surroundings. His eyes were closed and the scepter was in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip. He did not move for a long while. It almost looked as if he were a statue. "How long has he been like that?" Charlotte asked.

            Quickly, Jarvis replied. "He hasn't moved for an hour and forty-five minutes. He seems to be in a deep meditation of a sort. The energy radiating from the scepter will not allow my interference in that room. Should I attempt to shut down this floor for your protection?"

            "Not unless you want a bunch of busted walls." Charlotte said, staring at the image of Loki. "What floor is he on?"

            "He's currently four floors down in the living quarters." _Damn_ , Charlotte mumbled in her head. There was no traveling down then, until he came looking for her, at least. Or, would he look for her? What if he thought she wasn't coming back? He could never know she was here if she tried to avoid him long enough, but then what? She had come back for a reason, after all. Charlotte sighed, then took back her whiskey from the table. Taking another gulp, she had a sudden desire to wash up.

            "Jarvis, you said you would assist me with something?"

            "Yes, Miss."

            "Can you tell me if there’s a shower on this floor or the three floors below?" Charlotte longed for the feel of hot water on her skin. She knew Loki would be busy, and if she kept quiet he'd never discover her. And, she really was starting to disgust herself. At least she was able to grab some new clothes while she was out.

            "Certainly, Miss. There is a public gym one the floor below. Several showers are at your disposal in the lockeroom. May I direct you there?"

            "Please," Charlotte begged, setting the glass in her hand back down at the table.

 

            ~~

 

            What a relief to feel clean and organized, Charlotte thought as she ventured her way back to the bar floor. Her hair still damp, she used her own brush she'd taken from her suitcase while visiting Meagan to untangle the fiery jungle of locks, until she could comfortable run her fingers through it. She wore the clothes she'd brought from Germany, feeling less comfortable in the white robe she'd found in the shower bay. The outfit consisted of a thin, loose skirt, as white as the robe, which grazed her tall, smooth legs and hung just above her knees, a white tank-top (the same she'd woken up wearing on the carrier) under a pale-tan blouse with slit, loose sleeves that tied at her wrists, a V neck revealing her breast line and lower back, a thin string tied in the back kept it over her shoulders, and a pair of tan flats on her feet. Meagan had gotten her the outfit, but she never got to wear it until now. Charlotte never would have worn it without her locket, but she'd have to hold that urge until the next time she saw Meagan, which was a questionable matter. The next time she’d get to wear this outfit was also uncertain, which is why she chose to now. Even a thousand miles away, she felt close to her friend while wearing it.

            Whiskey in hand again, Charlotte found her seat back on the couch. The building was very quiet, more quiet than any house she'd been in. She sat twirling her hair with a finger as she sipped her alcohol. She even flipped through the few magazines they lay piled on the table's wooden surface, but after a while it was plain to Charlotte how utterly bored she was. When she could peer into the glass and see the bottom of it, she got up and went back to the bar, pouring the remains into the other, full glass of whiskey. So much for taking it easy, she thought. After a few more minutes of silence, Charlotte realized how unbearable it was. She sighed and ventured to the window, placing a hand on the glass. "Jarvis."

            "Yes, Miss." She was glad he was still there.

            "Could you play some music for me?" Charlotte asked, eyes gleaming out the window, the cold glass of Jack against her warm chest.

            "I can't access the network, but I can allow you to search Tony's personal selection." A screen appeared near the bar table and Charlotte excitedly made her way to it. She searched for songs she often listened to, but evidently he had nothing she knew. She searched Stark's music stream for a few more minutes until she found a small playlist titled _Hiatus_. Something inside Charlotte recalled that name, compelling her to play the track called Sounds of the World.

            At first there was nothing, but then Charlotte heard the sound of running water, the waves of an ocean, and then a slow, beautiful acoustic guitar. It started in lovely and peaceful, but every so often, a new beginning would start, changing the feel of the song. The song grew and fell, completely capturing Charlotte's interest. She swayed to the rhythm, though constantly changing.

            For a while, that's all she did. She hummed along with the music to where she thought it'd go and swirled her body to the beautiful tune of the many instruments consisting in the piece. It seemed the track went on forever, but she loved it. She took a few more drinks of the Jack in her hand. The temperature of the room grew as warm as Charlotte could stand it. It was relaxing, yet suffocating, but she kept on dancing to the music. For a moment she forgot about Loki, about Meagan and the upcoming war. She forgot about the many sips of alcohol she'd already consumed and proceeded to poor more (As her heritage would allow, Charlotte could hold her liquor fairly well). After a bit of singing and swaying, Charlotte found herself outside on the balcony of the floor. There wasn't a railing to prevent her fall, but she wasn't too tipsy as to tumble over the side to her death. She leaned against the glass leading back in doors and stared up at the night sky, her whiskey hand swaying at her side.

            Charlotte breathed in the cool night air. The chill of it felt relieving on her warm skin, as did the glass window against her bare back. The vibe of this moment caused Charlotte to close her eyes, totally at peace. She tapped her glass against the window in rhythm to the song, a soft piano now playing in the distance.

            The sound of distant horns below her caused Charlotte to open her eyes again. The wind picked up, flowing through her radiant red hair, which was now almost completely dry. She peered up at the moon for another few seconds, only to realize the room behind her was quiet again. The track had stopped, and emptiness of sound puzzled her once more. And then, a cold hand griped the soft skin of her shoulder.

            Charlotte jumped back to find Loki standing beside her, a wise smile on his face. As she forced herself to calm down, he glanced at the night before him. He took in a deep breath and then turned to her again. "Beautiful isn't it?" he asked. Charlotte stood straight, also attempting to hide the glass of whiskey behind her back.

            "It is." she agreed.

            Loki walked to stand beside her again, his hands holding each other behind his back. She noticed then he wasn’t carrying his scepter. “Capturing, almost as much as Asgard itself.” He looked over the night sky, his eyes glazing over each star. Charlotte wondered if he was trying to count them all, and she recalled the many times in her life she had attempted the same task. “Would it not be more so,” Loki’s voice brought her attention from the sky. “with the streets of this city running with the blood of your people?”

            Anxiety consumed the expression on Charlotte’s face. Loki looked back at her, the smile he carried much darker than before. “Imagine it, Charlotte. This city kneeling before me. Midgard’s greatest heroes, fallen at my feet. It’s remaining masses calling my name. And then, the whole of this world.” His eyes drifted far from this place, picturing such an accomplishment in the silence. Charlotte could picture it, but not in the glory that Loki saw.  It was a nightmare in her mind. The chaos of Loki’s greatest triumph embedded her thoughts.

            Charlotte looked at Loki with a countenance of annoyance, which shocked her a bit. To feel annoyed and not terrified at his speech, something was giving her courage to stand up to him, even if only in her thoughts. Maybe it was the whiskey. She almost rolled her eyes.

            “You seem overly confident that you're going to win this war." Charlotte commented, unknowingly bringng the cool glass back to her lips. Before taking a drink, she quickly held it behind her again, and went on. "Even if you won, do you honestly expect the world to just except you, Loki?” she asked. Loki gave her a curious glance. His smile hardly lessened.

            “They won’t have a choice, will they?”

            Fully turning to her, he caught a glimpse of the glass she held behind her back, the liquid glowed against the city lights. He meant to comment on it, but Charlotte distracted him as she approached. She was so close, he could smell the liquor on her breath. Not a horrid smell, but surprising. It mixed with the mint of toothpaste, turning into something sweet in his nostrils. It consumed him. Charlotte smiled, lowering her gaze to his lips as she spoke. “What a kingdom,” she said, her voice soft as a whisper. “The whole world at your feet. Millions of innocent people dead.” Her eyelashes fluttered when Loki moved closer to her, but Charlotte immediately stepped back, a glare in her gaze. “You can’t just wash away all that blood. You’ll end up drowning in it.”

            It was Loki’s turn to glare, though usually it would have unnerved Charlotte. She idly stared at him, and he could detect her lack of fear. He softened his gaze, but did not smile. “I will bring order to this world,” he said simply.

            Charlotte _did_ roll her eyes at that. “Order? Order to what? We’re not animals, Loki! We have governments, we have laws.”

            “What petty laws would allow such cruel acts, such wars between you humans? Your people suffer, I know. I've seen it. You think my intentions are immoral. Look at the things humans are capable of? You would deny the evil in this world?”

            Charlotte's brows rose in the shock of hearing his words, though she couldn't believe them. “And by nearly wiping us from the universe, you would justify all that with your rule? And what then? Do you even have a plan after this war is over with, or are you just making this all up as you go?” Loki didn’t answer. He turned from her, and it gave Charlotte cause to continue before he could speak. “This war that you crave so much, it won’t end tomorrow, Loki, or the next day, or next week, or even years from now. Midgardians will not give up their freedom because you beat them at one fight. It will NEVER end. Not one day will go by without at least one person in this world wishing to put a knife to your throat. Is that really the kind of kingdom that you want?”

            Loki was silent. He stared off into the night sky, Charlotte’s words slowly sinking into his thoughts. Her words were poison to his plans, but still he would not let up. He would see this world fall, no matter the cost. Charlotte waited for the prince to respond, but was only acknowledged with a soft chuckle. She could see the taunting smile on his lips, even as his back was turned to her. He sighed and turned to her, the remnants of his smile gone, and clear anger in his eyes. For once that night, Charlotte felt afraid of him.

            "Don’t you see, Charlotte?” he said finally, gesturing his arms around him as his eyes flew to the sky, all around him and back on her. He advanced toward her, but she did not move; she would not give in to her fear. Loki continued, his brows furrowing at her behavior. “Midgardians crave ruling. They need an eye over them, it is in their nature.”

            “You don’t know anything about humans.” Charlotte retorted, but it had no affect on Loki.

            He stopped and looked at her with an as-a-matter-of-act look. “Do I not, Charlotte?” he asked, gesturing a hand to her. “I’ve come to know you very well.”

            “How so?” she asked, and Loki smiled again.

            “Do you not realize? At this moment, your friend lays dying, all alone. You could be with her, comforting her, filling her head with futile hopes. Or, you could alone in the dark of your home, reading some pointless children’s story, and instead you are here, why?”

            “Maybe I’ve come to stop you. To get my revenge.” Charlotte stammered, but Loki wasn’t buying it.

            “And yet you’ve spent time to pour yourself drinks, to wander the building, even shower and dress in fashionable clothing.”

            “You watched me?!” Charlotte squealed in horror. She took a step back from him nervously, but the idle look on Loki’s face gave her no desire to run.

            “I would not waste my time watching you shower, Charlotte. But it is clear, when you came here, revenge was the last thing on your mind.” He told her, earning him a firm glare. The glare deepened when he looked over her clothing for the first time. He simply chuckled. “You should have left your other clothes on for that.” Charlotte stared back at Loki, an irritated glare stabbing at him. She was unsure if he meat to compliment or insult her, which just made her more angry. “So I’ll ask you again,” Loki continued, his tone more focused around the question, not betraying his attempt to keep hidden the unmistakable desire in his eyes as they looked over Charlotte’s figure.  “Why are you here?” he asked.

            Charlotte, however, had no answer. She had asked herself that very question, with no convincing reason. It was crazy, maybe she was crazy. Maybe she had hoped to make Loki see reason, but it was plain to her he would not. This quest of his, he would not turn from it now, and she finally understood it. So why _was_ she here? Charlotte was staring into the eyes of the mischievous prince, who patiently waited for her reply. She crossed her arms over her chest, finally feeling the chill of the night air on her skin. “Why do you think I’m here?” she asked, nervously. She would hear if he had an answer, and by the look on his face, she knew he had his own version of her coming to him.

            “It’s what I’ve been saying all along, Charlotte.” he said, walking to her. He didn’t strut, like he usually did. He walked calmly to her side, surprising her by taking her shoulder in his hand. It was a gently notion, and the smile on his face startled her, also. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and gentle. “You come to me for guidance.” he said. Though he could not have been more serious, it made Charlotte laugh. It didn’t anger him to see her laughing at him, instead he smiled more. “Do you not agree?”

            “What would I need guidance for? And from you, of all people?”

            “It’s what all humans need. It’s why I mean to rule them. You are all lost somehow.”

            “You’re telling me you’re here as the world’s therapist. “

            Loki laughed, but nodded. “In a matter of speaking.” he said, but it made Charlotte’s smile fade. She knew, this could not be his true intention with her world.

            She realized now, she had been a fool for coming. She pushed herself from Loki’s grasp and stepped away from him. “I know, you won’t give up, I get it. No matter what I say, I can’t convince you to see reason, because you’re crazy.” As she walked around him, she added, "And you can’t reason with madness." Loki's eyes followed her as she stepped backwards into the room, out of the freezing night. “I was wrong to have come. Whatever you’re planning, I won’t be a part of it. I can’t-” She turned then and sprinted toward the elevator, hoping and praying that it worked. She felt Loki’s eyes still on her, but he did not come after her. Instead his voice carried through the room.

            “And what of your sister, Charlotte?” he asked. Just before reaching the halfway point of the room, Charlotte stopped. _Natalia._ “She will come to fight, and she will die.” Loki’s words stung in Charlotte mind. She turned to him, eyes nearly wet and anger pulsing through her veins, but Loki would not give her room to speak. “Then again, would you care? Would you mourn for your sister, or would you congratulate the one to do it?”

            “I forgave Natasha a long time ago."

            “Only because she was not there for you to do something about it.” Loki retorted. “Forgiveness is needless, in the end we all wish for a separate outcome.” Charlotte said nothing. The words she meant to say caught in her throat. She felt her face growing hotter with anger and frustration. Loki continued, moving out from the darkness into the room. “You cannot deny you’ve wished for her to pay. You can’t tell me you haven't wished to see her dead. Look at what she’s done.”

            “No,” Charlotte replied, harsh, yet hoarse. In her heart, she knew it was a lie, but she would not fall into Loki’s game. She couldn’t. He wanted to use her, that was all.

            Loki knew it was a lie. He could see it in her eyes, the truth fighting to be let out. He moved in closer, his tone more severe, his brows furrowing as he was filled with determination to hear her tell him to truth. “You lie. I can see it inside you: your anger, your fear. It is inevitable! You’ve pushed off your anger for so long, it has sunk too deep for you to realize your hatred.”

            “Stop it, Loki! You don’t know anything!” Charlotte hollered, turning from him, but her attempts to escape were for not. He appeared right in front of her, blocking her path. She screamed in surprised, the tears falling down her cheeks. “Why are you doing this?” she cried, pushing into him with her fists, though it was doing absolutely nothing.

            Loki smiled again; Charlotte was getting tired of seeing it, she wanted more than anything to smack it off his face. “I want you to admit it, Charlotte. Admit to your humanity, that you’ve wanted to see her pay.” He grabbed both her shoulders, holding them firmly. He held her gaze with his, though she was too weary to shoot daggers at him. “Isn‘t it what you‘ve wanted?” he asked, pulling her closer. His grasp on her shoulders grew tight, and she tried to pull away, but he held her there. She felt his nails digging into her skin. She gasped in pain when he shook her, furthering the rate of her tears. “Isn’t it?!”

            Charlotte felt the anger rising within her. She felt it seeping out of her pores, her body rising in temperature at the heat of her rage. Loki demanded and answer a final time and she violently shoved his hands off her, screaming in all her fury, “Yes! It’s what I want, alright?” Tears dripped down her cheeks, her frustration and pain brining more to her eyes. She couldn’t look at Loki. She stared at the ground. Her fists clenching into each other, turning her palms white. “I wanted her to pay. I wanted - I wanted her to come to me, to apologize, to explain why she did it.” Charlotte grinded her teeth together to keep from screaming. She felt like her head would explode. “But she ran. She ran away. She left, and for years - for years I wished that she was dead. I -" Charlotte took a breath, but not one without tears. She breathed and went on. "I wanted to kill her.” Charlotte heaved in a deep sob as the tears poured from her face. She grabbed Loki’s coat and pulled on it, fiercely, still not meeting his eye. He stood there and did nothing as she ranted. “She just left, without a word. She killed him, and I swore I’d kill her myself . . . I’ll kill her. I swear, I’ll kill her!”

            Charlotte tumbled to the floor, Loki’s coat slipping free of her grasp. She lay on her hip, her legs bent partly beneath her, gasping for air as she’d given all her breath through her ranting and raving. One arm held her up, but she felt her strength was failing her. Still, she did not care. Tears clouded her sight, but she had no energy left to wipe them away. She had no energy to do anything, just breathe.

            Loki stood there in the silence of words, listening to her sobs. His smile had faded. Now, he peered down at her feeling only pity. After a time, though Charlotte had expected him to walk away, he knelt down to her and brushed a soft finger against her cheek, wiping the falling tears away. She looked up at him, first in fear at his touch, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes, and didn’t pull back as he grazed her skin with his thumb.

            He sighed and looked into her bloodshot eyes then, though she remained expressionless. “You’ve been betrayed, Charlotte, as I have been betrayed.”

            He paused, and Charlotte took in a deep breath to speak. “I know,” she said, her voice cracked and weak.

            “Do you?” Loki asked, intrigued.

            Charlotte nodded. “I know your whole story. Odin took you in after the war with your true father. You lived your whole life in the shadow of your brother. You’d never be given the throne because of your heritage. Yes, I know.” So she did, Loki thought, and this caused him to smile. He never expected her to, in fact, he was interested how she knew, but for another time.

            “We can fix things, Charlotte. I’ve been given a chance to be the ruler I was born to be. And you have the opportunity to confront your sister, to right the wrongs she did by you. This cannot be by coincidence that our path’s have crossed.” Loki told her. She heard, clearly, the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at her now, she thought maybe he really did believe this could be possible. But, would she have the courage to do what he was asking of her?

            To Loki’s disappointment, Charlotte took his hand away from her face and shook her head. “I - I don’t know if I can, Loki.” She got up on her feet, and he mirrored her actions. Loki nodded, and again, Charlotte suddenly felt afraid.

            His next words caught Charlotte completely of guard. He glanced to his own feet, and looking back into Charlotte‘s eyes, he asked, “Did you love him?” Charlotte breathed in calmly to steady her heart rate. The question had caused in her the sudden desire to run, but then she saw the concern in Loki’s eyes, whether it be staged or honest. Still, she kept her gaze on his.

            “No,” she said simply, though inside she knew it was a lie. Loki suspected it as well. Charlotte took another breath. “Sam was Meagan’s older brother. We grew up together, and he was one of my best friends. I cared for him, more than I have for anyone, but I didn’t love him.” Charlotte told him with the most honest tone she could manage. In a few seconds of silence, Loki examined her expression and believed what she was telling him to be true. She could sense a sort of relief wash off of him then, and it interested her.  Would he have been jealous if she‘d answered ‘yes‘? The look in his eyes betrayed him.

            All this talk of Natasha, of Samuel, Charlotte felt another tear roll down her cheek, but she didn’t move to be rid of it. She was sick of moving, sick of crying, sick of talking. Loki had it in him to move again, closer to her, staring at the tear trail left on her cheek. He brushed it away, but left his hand there and switched his gaze to hers.

            “You’ll find your courage,” he told her. For the first time, Charlotte wasn’t unnerved or afraid when he smiled. She was brightened by it, and the touch of his fingers against her cheek made her feel safe and warm inside. “Together, our fears will diminish. The world will be at our disposal, Charlotte. Nothing can stop us.” He whispered these words, and they filled Charlotte with hope.

            When he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his face to hers, Charlotte felt this desire, this wish for this moment to never end. She desired to kiss him, though inside she felt some what of guilt. This was the man who had nearly killed her friend, and was now planning on destroying all that she knew in this world. He was manipulating her, indulging in her feelings to get what he wanted. No . . . she couldn’t think of these things now. But, it made Charlotte wonder. What did Loki truly want with her? Maybe to go after her sister so he would not have to. But, even if Charlotte couldn‘t face her, she was sure he would find a way to stop Natasha, anyway. So, what was his reasoning for the Vow? Loki had made his cruel acts toward her people well known. So why offer mercy in the first place, when he could have easily killed Charlotte and Meagan that night in Germany as he had with so many others.

            Charlotte’s thoughts overpowered her desire to taste Loki’s kiss, and she pulled back from him and stared into his eyes as the question replayed over and over in her head, yet she said nothing. Loki stared down at her in concern. Her accusation that he could read her thoughts was tossed from her mind when he asked, his voice calm and sweet, “What thoughts trouble you?”

            This gave her cause to ask, but not before she took a breath to settle her nerves. “If you do win this war . . . If the heroes of Earth can’t save us, what then? More exactly, what part in the story would I play?” she asked him in all confidence. She would have felt nervous to ask if not for his soft gaze and the gentle brush of his fingers against her neck. He thought for a moment, and she continued her own thoughts out loud. “Would you use me to encourage my people of your rule, like you are now to get to my sister.” These words caused a stir in Loki, but he still said nothing as Charlotte went on. “Who’s to say I’ll even survive the war. If one of your soldiers, or even my sister was to kill me, would you care? Would you just mark the loss and forget about me, knowing the entire world is at your feet?” The beating in Charlotte’s chest caused her to say not another word, in fear of her heart exploding.

            Loki sighed and brought his arm at Charlotte’s waist, bringing her closer to him. He had a small smile on his face, and it brought her spirit up, but still she waited for his words. His crystal gaze, more compelling than the light of his scepter, caused Charlotte to hold her breath. “Dear, Charlotte.” he said. His voice was quiet, hardly loud enough for her to hear. “The Tutelary will not touch you, I will see to that. And even I know Agent Romanoff would not find it in her heart to kill you. She will feel guilt. She’ll fill your head with pretend apologies and use them to try and turn you against me. What you do then, it is your choice.” Loki said, taking a moment to brush back a fallen strand of her hair. Something in his words aroused confusion in her.

            “Is it?” Charlotte asked aloud as the question had been scrambling her thoughts. “You say we have a chance together, but I wonder if you would really give me a choice. After all, I vowed to serve you, to obey your every command.  You command that I kill my sister, so would I have a place beside you if I failed?” she asked this and the light in Loki’s eyes grew dark, but Charlotte could not determine if he was angry. “Would you kill me?“ she went on. “Or would you keep me as I am.”

            “And what would that be?” Loki asked, remnants of his earlier vexation returning in his voice.

            Charlotte breathed out nervously. “Aren’t I just a prisoner? A slave to abide by you, a plaything to do whatever you want with?” she asked. She tensed at his touch because of her own words. She regretted repeating her thoughts out loud when she saw a sudden flash across his eyes. Loki came closer to her, his grip on her waist tightened and his lips brushed heavily against her ear. A smooth, yet dark chuckle escaped his throat and it caused a bright flush to coat her face.

            “If you would prefer it that way. Or rather, is this your true motive for returning?” he asked, his voice imitating his laugh. He brought his eyes back to gaze into hers and smiled at how red her face was. When he spoke again, his voice was less dark, but not as gentle as before. “There is no one here for you to save, Charlotte. If you wish to leave and never return, I am giving you a choice.” He paused, but Charlotte made no attempt for the elevator, so he continued. “However, if you wish to stay, to fulfill your vow,” he paused again and took a handful of her hair and swung it behind her shoulder, “then I encourage you to do so, in any way that you find,” he took another handful and whirled it over her other shoulder, “necessary.” Charlotte stared up at Loki in uncertainty, but he merely smiled. “If it pleases you, I will not interfere.” he promised, urging Charlotte on. She could not look directly at him as she felt the heat rise in her body. She turned her head from him, but he found this as invitation, lowering his lips to her neck.

            “Loki,” Charlotte breathed, shutting her eyes from embarrassment. He simply ignored her and continued kissing her skin. She took a deep breath as an attempt to lower the rate of her heart, which sped with each touch of his lips. “Shouldn’t your mind be somewhere else?” she tried again, and for a moment he shared her gaze again.

            “Do you wish me to stop?” he asked. At her attempt to respond, Charlotte discovered a slight stutter in her words, prompting Loki to smile. It amused him how flushed her once pale face had become. When she didn’t answer, he once again lowered his face and pressed his lips against hers, capturing any words she would have said against it. It was clear that she had no intention to refuse him, otherwise she would not allow him to undo the strap in the back of her blouse. She gave no protest as the loose sleeves fell over her shoulders, uncovering her chest completely if not for her arms propped up on his shoulders. She would not deny, she wanted this. She had no cares as to where they were or how much longer the night would last. Charlotte opened his sleeve-less coat and pushed it over his shoulders, and it easily slid down his arms to the floor. His armor was the difficult part, and she made the comment that she would have preferred if he was wearing the suit and jacket from back in Stuttgart. Eventually, that too found a place on the floor beside the coat, as did his vest and tunic.         

            Charlotte’s eyes glazed over his body. Loki was not a huge man, but she could see defined muscles in his arms and abdomen. Under all his clothes, she never would have known, but in the glow of the moonlight (as the lights in the room had faded suddenly) Charlotte was enchanted. She had never seen such beauty in a man, regrettably not even in Samuel, as though he was the most gorgeous guy she’d ever known, Loki appeared as both masculine and beautiful. She was not surprised, then, how easily he lifted her off her feet and carried her down the hall to the reclined sofa in the other room. He laid her down beneath him, caressing her chest, neck, and lips with his soft, gentle kisses. Too much of this and Charlotte felt like she would explode. She became impatient. She desired more of him. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled his face to hers, and he replied with deeper, fuller kisses. His hand grazed her smooth leg, traveling up into her skirt, clenching her skin aggressively. Charlotte sunk deeper into the sofa as he pulled her against his waist. He brought his lips to her neck and she let out a soft moan when he lightly bit her skin. This gave Loki encouragement to sink his fingers under her shirt and lift it over her head, carelessly tossing it on the floor.

            Charlotte felt a sudden buzz. Whether it was the whiskey finally catching up with her  or the bulge in Loki’s pants that was harshly pressing against her or both, she didn’t know. But she didn’t care. The moment she found herself free of her skirt and underwear, she lifted herself from the cushions and shifted positions on the sofa, throwing Loki beneath her, though the cold air chilled her newly bare skin. She bent her face down to his and coated his lips with hers, hiding their faces away underneath her long hair. After a moment, Loki pushed her away for breath and simply stared up at her. Her face flushed again, and she couldn’t share his gaze out of humiliation.

            “Why do you shy away?” Loki asked, and the moment he did Charlotte wrapped  a hand around her arm, covering the majority of her breasts, but she looked down at him again and smiled.

            She shrugged. “You’re the only man who’s ever seen me like this.” she told him, and it made him smile. He sat up slightly and met her lips with a soft kiss.

            “Than a lucky man am I.” he whispered, bringing a hand around the back of her head. Charlotte smiled and kissed him, though he brought her face down with his as he laid on his back again. The buzz in Charlotte’s head made her dizzy, yet courageous. She smoothed her hands over Loki’s chest, down to his waist, to the string on his pants. Her fingers automatically untwined the fabric, loosening it from his body. Her nails dug into his hips as she pulled the fabric down past his knees, until they too fell to the floor with the rest of the clothing.

            Their lips immediately found each other once more, and their desire deepened each second they waited. For a moment, just a moment, they stared into the eyes of the other, though Charlotte meant to say something. She felt it important, but she did not have the nerve to say the words. The only desire she had was for him, and he for her. With a final kiss, and no words to interrupt, Loki held on to Charlotte’s hips and brought her body down on his. One hand slipped through her hair again, lightly pulling at her locks, their kisses afterward growing deeper until neither of them could breath altogether. Loki wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, his eyes shut tight as pleasure swept over him, and Charlotte let soft moans escape her lips into his ear to the rhythm of her hips. This was not a new experience for either of them, but the feeling that aroused within them was something neither had felt. The pleasure was different, fueled by another factor only one of them had felt before. To the other it was entirely new, and it influenced them to wait as long as they could, to make it last.

~~

            Charlotte settled her trembling body against his, her heart racing with fury, and Loki covered them both with a blanket that lay folded on the back of the sofa. Now that the heat of their bodies was fading, he realized just how cold the night was; one of them should have closed the window in the other room. Charlotte would have fallen asleep, her head resting on his chest listening to the rapid beat of his heart, had Loki announced the rising of the sun. Charlotte rose her body from his to peer at the sky. She sighed, knowing she would not find sleep. Though Loki knew of her troubled thoughts, he was distracted by the beauty of her skin against the rising sun. As she looked on, he studied her, his gaze swimming over her features. When she turned back to him and smiled, something in his heart jumped. He did not smile, he stared on as if bewitched. Charlotte saw this puzzled look on his face and asked what was wrong. Loki only smiled and sat up from the couch.

            “It is a shame, is all, that this moment must end.” he said, causing Charlotte’s smile to return. She kissed him, and after a moment rose from the couch to find her clothes. Loki did the same, and then he went on to prepare for the battle that would soon take place. If the heroes of Midgard were as clever as he thought, they would be there within no time.

 


End file.
